


The Variable Heart

by colepaldigirl



Category: British Actor RPF, Doctor Who RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Detox, F/M, Heart Attacks, Near Death Experiences, Paparazzi, Recovery, Rehabilitation, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-08 18:38:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 109,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7768783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colepaldigirl/pseuds/colepaldigirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jenna takes a trip down memory lane and visits the Doctor Who set during the filming of season 11. She's looking forward to spending some time with her old friend, but when she meets up with Peter he's clearly been hiding something and she doesn't find out what, until too late.</p><p>Surprisingly for Jenna, Peter's poor health isn't the only thing she discovers.</p><p>Some adult scenes and reference to adult issues such as alcohol drugs overdose etc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is Real Person Fiction (see my bio for more on that). Its completely fictional, completely 'alternate universe' and not meant to offend anyone. If you aren't comfortable with it, please don't read it, I completely understand. The people depicted in this story and others probably couldn't be less like the Real Peter and Jenna. It's just fantasy, an interesting set of circumstances in a story, to read.

It was weird but it was wonderful at the same time, and it might be a cold December afternoon but inside she felt warm. Jenna hadn’t seen Peter in months and now she was back on the set of _Doctor Who_ waiting for him to finish up with some fans outside the building. As usual he had nipped out on his break to say hello and offer photos and autographs. She didn’t know how he could stand it, it was freezing, but the fans always came first, sometimes before his lunch or a nap. He went without so many times; when they had worked together she was constantly telling him off.

Jenna wandered around the TARDIS interior, grinning to herself and reminiscing. They’d had so much fun together and those memories were some of her most treasured as an actress. As a person, actually. The long days were hard but she had looked forward to each one and to spending it with her partner in crime. He taught her so much about acting and about life, and she made sure he had a sandwich now and then and sat down. They worked well together, Peter’s favourite word to describe them was simpatico and it was so true. It had been a hard decision to finally leave and one she had put off more than once, but opportunity kept knocking and she couldn’t keep saying no.

She’d done two series of _Victoria_ now and Peter was coming to the end of his fourth series as the Doctor. Both of them had miles to go with each, _Victoria_ was thought to last for a total of five seasons and _Doctor Who_ , well it was immortal and Peter showed no signs of leaving. Jenna’s star was rising fast and she collected award after award, request after request for her talent. Peter, working as he was on sci-fi family drama, had received nothing for his dedication.

Jenna sat down hard on one of the jump-seats in the ‘console-room’ and waited. It wasn’t fair. He poured his heart and soul and all of his energy into that role. He was accessible and kind and every child’s hero. Surely they could award him one measly BAFTA? Every time she saw him overlooked she grew angry and protective of her friend, even going so far as to mention him when she won hers last year, saying it was a travesty. The award people would probably never give her another one after that but she didn’t care. She could be quite the little terrier when she wanted to be. Peter had been mortified by her acceptance speech and made her promise not to fight his battles. He had an Oscar, he’d live. She promised with her fingers crossed behind her; she would always have his back.

A clunk to her left and just behind the console, told her Peter was back and she hopped off the seat enthusiastically. Her heels rattled on the floor a little as she scurried round to find him leaning on the ‘psychic interface panel,’ buttoned up in a thick dark coat, with his eyes shut. Something about him made her hesitate a little. Maybe it was the dim light, maybe it was something to do with how still he was, but she felt a sudden rush of concern which froze her momentarily, her hand suspended over one of his.

He opened his eyes and looked straight at her and there was a beat in which she saw his fatigue before he smiled widely.

‘Jenna!’ he opened his arms and embraced her, kissed her cheek, ‘What a lovely surprise! Although try not to surprise me too much, I need a bit of warning these days…’

‘What?’ she frowned.

‘Nothing… did you just get here?’ he said, all animation and enthusiasm. ‘I believe we might almost be finished for the day. What are your plans? Who are you seeing?’

‘You, silly, I’m seeing you.’

He frowned, ‘I’m sure the crew would like to catch up…’

‘Plenty time for that I’m here a week,’ Jenna reassured. ‘Plan is catch up with you, see the guys, relax in the little place I rented. It’s a bit of a drive from here but maybe if you had a free day you could come up? It’s in this lovely little bay…. What?’

He was staring at her, mesmerised. Eventually he looked away, fiddled with a few buttons on the console. ‘It’s lovely to see you, Jenna,’ he smiled.

‘Ok,’ she said, querying him, ‘You’re being odd.’

He laughed and looked up, ‘Am I?’

‘Yes, and you’re all… evasive…’

‘No I’m not!’

‘You are!’ she tried to read his expression and failed, ‘Hmm I can see I’m going to have to drag you to dinner now and you can fill me in properly about stuff. Like what you’ve been up to, what the Comic Con was like, what’s coming up next series…’

‘Oh now… you know that’s classified,’ he warned sternly.

‘Oh alright not that then. How about….’ She watched him standing there with his head bowed and is gaze focused on the lever he was flipping back and forth on one of the panels. Jenna felt a chill, ‘Are you ok?’ she asked, the merriment leaving her. ‘You seem…’

‘I’m fine,’ his lips twitched but his smile failed first time.

‘Sure?’ Jenna checked.

He inhaled and lifted his head, that beat again before he answered with that pasted on smile, ‘Absolutely,’ he said, ‘Dinner you say?’

 

To get to dinner meant running the gauntlet of fans out to the waiting car. Jenna did suggest sneaking out the back but Peter wouldn’t hear of it. Some of these people had waited all day, the least he could do was say hello, so she joined him and was met by doubly excited squeals and questions. Was she back? Was it a one off episode? Did this mean the Doctor was regenerating? Tongues wagged and Peter raised his eyebrows playfully at them, confirming and denying nothing.

He patiently signed and posed and Jenna began to wonder for the umpteenth time how he did it. She was getting tired already after a long day of morning engagements and then coming over from London. She noticed Peter’s smile becoming strained after a while and attempted to intervene. He wouldn’t stop by himself, he never did, he had to be physically removed under protest.

‘Hi… hi… yeah I’m afraid I need to steal him and make sure he gets dinner,’ she said pushing into the throng a little, ‘Peter’s been on set since seven so, you know….’

‘Does everyone have everything they need?’ he asked ignoring her, ‘Photos, autographs…? Yeah? OK. In that case I’m going to head off, it was lovely meeting you all.’

A cumulative groan from the fans, but a reasonably understanding one. Jenna grabbed his arm and subtly pulled on it, dragging him away from the dedicated bunch and towards the waiting car. Peter was still waving to the fans as the door was shut. Jenna looked over as he slumped into the seat and shut his eyes. The car started and pulled away but he didn’t stir.

‘Peter are you sure you’re Ok?’

He roused slowly and blinked at her, ‘Oh Jenna stop worrying. You know how it is once you get to the half way mark with a series, you walk a little slower, learning lines gets a little harder….’

‘Yeah I know that feeling, I just…’ she peered at him in the darkness of the back seat. ‘have you lost weight?’

‘Always do, that’s why I fatten up pre-series,’ he chuckled and then patted his flat stomach, ‘I had quite the paunch this year, all gone now, better than diet and exercise...’

Jenna sat back and smiled, ‘I’ll feed you tonight, make you feel a bit better.’

‘Thank you,’ he said with a note of genuine gratitude, ‘It’s nice to stop… for a while…’

She glanced across to reply but he was already asleep.

 

Jenna had the car stop at his apartment rather than drag him to a restaurant when he was so exhausted. It would only result in another queue of fans, so instead she prodded him awake outside the flat and encouraged him up the stairs while he protested.

‘I’m ok, we can still go to dinner,’ he argued as they reached the top of the first flight.

‘No, we’re going to order take away, which you are going to eat, and then you are going to bed.’

‘But Jenna you’ve come all this way…’ he said breathily, a couple of steps behind her.

‘To spend time with you and I can do that here as well as any restaurant, better I daresay…’ she stopped and waited for him to manage the last few steps, which he did, eventually, panting as he climbed the final one and leaned a little on the wall by his door. ‘What is wrong with you?’ Jenna asked.

In the brighter lights of the communal hallway of the BBC flats she could see that he didn’t look well. His make up off he had definitely lost weight and there was a darkness under his eyes that wasn’t there before. He lacked colour and was still struggling to get his breath back.

‘I’m just tired,’ he said in his most reassuring tones. ‘That’s all I promise.’

‘You look ill,’ she commented as he inserted the key in the lock and kept his back to her. ‘Have you had a check up?’

Peter tossed his keys down on the table by the door and she followed him in.

‘No,’ he said patiently, ‘I have not had a check up…’

‘You should, why haven’t…’

‘Because my Doctor is in London and its rather tricky getting the time right now. We have a break coming up in three weeks I’ll go then.’

‘That’s Christmas you’ll never get an appointment.’

Peter turned to face her, his long fingers unbuttoning his jacket, ‘Jenna will you lay off me please?’ he said a little tersely.

She glared at him, ‘I’m just concerned, there’s such a change in you. You’re not looking after yourself are you?’

He collapsed down into the sofa, ‘No, probably not,’ he said rubbing his brows. ‘Do me a favour and order dinner, I don’t think I’ll be awake much longer. Doesn’t seem to matter how much I sleep these days I’ve no energy at all.’

‘See!’

He waved her away, ‘Ok, Ok,’ and she went into the little kitchen to find a take away menu, one they had used many times together in the past, a nice local Chinese with amazing satay. Jenna browsed down the list, her body suddenly remembering she needed to eat and demanding attention right now. When she had picked her own she popped her head into the living room to ask Peter and hesitated.

He was awake, she had half expected him not to be, and he was sitting forward on the couch a little, paler than ever, a slight sheen of sweat across his brow. She could see he was panting for breath again and he looked uncomfortable. He grit his teeth for a moment and shut his eyes, leaning over further and breathing out through his mouth. Jenna was about to intervene when whatever it was seemed to pass and he sat back again with a relieved sigh, lifting his hand to wipe at the perspiration on his face.

She didn’t want to force him to talk but it was clear something was wrong. Jenna retreated into the kitchen and ordered his old favourite for him before joining him back on the couch. A bit of colour had returned to his ashen face, though it was clear his t-shirt, visible now his coat had been removed and his sweater too, was damp with sweat. He saw her looking, questioning and sighed to himself.

‘Just leave it for now Jenna,’ he said, ‘Really, let’s just enjoy the evening.’

‘Peter, you’re ill, look at you! I want to help, but I can’t if I don’t know what it is.’

He pressed his lips together, his eyes on the floor, ‘You don’t need to help, it’s nothing, it’s fine, I’m not terminal or anything…it’s no big deal.’

Jenna felt her eyes widen and something in her guts lurch at even the idea he could be that unwell, ‘Don’t even joke!’ she ordered. ‘It’s not funny!’

‘Stop fussing…’ Peter attempted to soothe here, ‘tell me all about what you’ve been up to. I keep seeing you at premieres and parties and hanging out with royals. What’s the gossip?’

She opened her mouth to try and angle him back to his health and then he gave her one of _those_ looks. The charming boyish one that was her undoing every time. The ‘play with me play with me’ that made him so irresistible. She laughed at him and sighed.

‘It’s not that interesting, honestly.’

‘It is to me. I’m in Cardiff most of the year running through carparks being chased by men in rubber Zygon costumes. I don’t do red carpet or glamourous functions. The beautiful and famous don’t want to hang out with an old man like me…’

‘You’re not old! I’ve never thought of you as old.’

‘That’s sweet of you, but I am old, now tell me about what you’ve been up to and make sure its reasonably scandalous so I can live vicariously through you.’

Jenna drew a deep breath, ‘OK, well, let me think…’

This was what they had always done. Curled up on the couch swapping stories and giggling like idiots at one another’s impersonations of the people or celebrities they met. Jenna relaxed a little and that she suspected allowed him to do the same. Whatever it was he’d tell her eventually, he always did, but the fact he’d kept it from her this long worried her. They saw each other less and less these days and she missed him; she didn’t want them to drift so far apart that he could be unwell and never mention it. He knew, didn’t he, what he meant to her?

The food arrived and she sipped her drink, her eyes on her friend who was doing a good job of distracting her from the fact he wasn’t really eating and his own drink was plain cola. The ‘thing’, his illness or condition, or whatever, hung in the air between them. She couldn’t put her finger on it and it was driving her crazy.

‘What time are you up tomorrow?’ she asked at last. Peter was already half dozing at the other end of the couch. It wasn’t even really late yet but she could see him struggling.

‘Six,’ he replied, blinking.

‘Can I come with you, see people, say hi, hang out?’

‘Don’t get in the way…’ he joked. Jenna batted him.

‘Cheek! I will sit quietly on the sidelines, maybe even dig out my old chair and… get glimpses of the future from there.’

He heaved himself up and made to move, ‘No spilling the details to anyone…’ he asked of her.

‘Cross my heart and hope to….’ she started. He looked at her sharply, eyes eloquent with a plea she couldn’t interpret, and she was unable to finish the saying. ‘Promise,’ she said quietly instead.

‘Better to promise,’ Peter said, ‘hearts are unreliable things.’


	2. Chapter 2

‘Mmmph,’ the alarm kept blaring despite her mumbled protests. ‘Mmmumph,’ Jenna whined as she fought her way out from under the heavy duvet Peter had given her. She had decided to stay as the evening drew to a close, her cottage taking a least an hour to get to and her plan for joining him on set meant an early start.

A very early start. She’d forgotten what these were like on cold winters days in Wales.

She was tangled in the bedding and getting more and more annoyed when the door to the spare room opened and Peter strode in cheerfully, her knight in armour and possibly the most welcome person ever to have existed as he punched the off button on the noisy little box by the bed. Only he would have an alarm shaped like a TARDIS with an insistent cloister bell tone.

He laughed and stood over the her, the big grey stick insect, ‘You alright under there?’ he asked.

‘Can’t… untangle… stupid….’ Jenna kicked the covers. She felt them tug a little and then Peter folded them down so that she could see and breathe more easily. He leaned down so his face was opposite hers.

‘Better?’ he asked

‘Thanks,’ she puffed. He kissed her forehead and stood straight again.

‘You know your problem,’ he said, ‘You’re too small, you get lost in normal sized beds.’

‘Shut up! I do not!’ she tried to reach him to exact punishment but he leapt away. He looked better today, relaxed and smiling with no hint of any illness. Maybe she’d imagined it, or exaggerated at least. ‘I’m the perfect height!’ she finished.

Peter snorted at her indignation and then made his way to the door.

‘I usually get breakfast on the run, unless you feel strongly about it? You’ve probably been living the life of luxury on _Victoria,_ late starts, time for proper food, days off…’

Jenna slid to the edge of the bed and poked her feet out. They dangled in mid-air, evidence of her tininess. Peter spotted them and pointed, raising his eyebrows as if to say ‘see!’

‘Er… no, no special treatment I’m afraid,’ Jenna was saying trying to fix her hair a little and ignore his mocking, ‘I’m only a pretend Queen. So, no, that’s cool, good old on site catering. I’ll just do what you’re doing.’

He turned to leave and let her get ready when she called him back, ‘You feeling better today?’ she asked brushing the hair from her eyes. He seemed to be but she felt a strange compulsion to check, and keep checking.

Peter cocked his head and turned back to face her with a sigh, ‘Will you stop worrying, please. I was knackered yesterday, I’ve had some sleep now, I feel better.’

‘You’d tell me right if there was something serious,’ she said suddenly, a little knot of anxiety in her chest.

‘There’s nothing serious,’ he said overly seriously, voice deep, eyebrows hunkered.

‘But you’d say?’ she insisted.

‘Jenna!’

She squared her shoulders as she sat on the bed, ‘I won’t be ignored on this…’ she started and he laughed. Jenna rolled her eyes, ‘Peter! I care about you, you don’t seem well, I mean you didn’t seem well last night, admittedly today you look a bit perkier and I’m probably over worrying...’

‘See… I had sleep.’

‘But yesterday you looked ghastly, and I know you don’t take care of yourself. That was my job, stopping you from doing too much all the time. You looked so pale and…. In pain,’ she said uncertainly.

Again he shot her that sharp look she had seen the night before.

‘Oh?’ he queried. She felt nervous answering him but couldn’t think why. It was like she’d revealed some dark secret he was ashamed of.

‘You were sitting on the couch while I ordered, and you looked awful, like you were trying to breathe away a cramp or something…’

‘Heartburn,’ he said quickly, ‘I don’t eat at the right times, you know that, now, come on…get up we’re going to be late…’ he vanished out of the door and Jenna was left sitting in her piled up duvet. Heartburn. She supposed it could be. Was she really reading too much into it? Certainly she knew what it was like to be dead tired and it could make things seem very bad indeed.  She breathed a slight sigh of relief. Just heartburn, well it could be that, he looked so much more like himself this morning.

She was getting paranoid, but she knew why. It wasn’t just that she missed him, it wasn’t even that she cared for him deeply, it was that she couldn’t bear the idea that he could be ill; that something could happen to him. That kind of reality just didn’t fit into her head. She didn’t know what she would do if that was ever the case, the panic she felt just at the thought of it was frightening. He was her absolute number one best friend and she adored him. He wasn’t allowed to get sick on her, or worse.

‘Stop it,’ she told herself, ‘He’s busy and always skips lunch. That’s all it is.’

‘Jenna!’

‘Ok, coming!

She fought her way out the covers and got dressed.

 

On set Peter bounded around the TARDIS interior and rattled off his lines. Jenna’s replacement in terms of Doctor’s companion, Pearl, was equally energetic. Her hair was even bigger than Peter’s. The two of them pinged around the circular room punning and bantering and producing snappy dialogue and humorous body language. Jenna watched with an odd feeling in her stomach. Pearl was having the time of her life; bouncing off of Peter, learning and absorbing his advice. It was just what Jenna had done a few years before, but it seemed so odd watching it now as an outsider. He was _her_ Doctor and she couldn’t shake the silly childish thought. She was jealous; she wished she could turn back time.

Between takes Peter found her sitting in Pearl’s named companion chair and she looked up at him guiltily.

‘I forgot I took mine with me,’ she said, ‘She won’t mind will she?’

‘Unlikely,’ he said sitting by her, ‘She doesn’t often use it. She’s got more bounce to the ounce than Zebedee, never ever stops.’

Jenna looked at him.

‘You’re too young for that reference aren’t you?’ he said in despair.

She held her expression just long enough to wind him up and then cracked. ‘No I have a vague memory of watching the repeats.’

‘I’m not sure that helps,’ Peter said.

Jenna smiled and looked back at the set she had shared with him for over two years. It had been redecorated slightly but it still had the absolute charm it always had. The atmosphere was just as welcoming, just as exciting.

‘You still loving it?’ she asked.

‘Oh, yes,’ Peter said leaning back in his chair. ‘It’s fantastic. I mean it’s not getting any easier but I wouldn’t swap it for the world.’

‘Not thinking of quitting then?’

‘No, why?’ he asked genuinely surprised.

‘It was in the paper last week.’

‘Oh that,’ he said, No… just salacious rumour. I’m here for the duration.  They’ll have to carry me out of here in a box,’ he smiled.

Something about that smile, about the way he said it caught her attention. Jenna glanced over at his profile, tried to read something into his expression but he turned and looked at her, his features shifting and immediately covering any hidden worries.

‘You know there are a bunch of fans outside with Pearl in attendance. I’m sure they’d love to see you,’ he said.

Jenna smiled a little sadly. It was a while since she had done a signing or appearance in the name of Clara, she’d just been so busy with other projects, but she had a genuine affection for _Doctor Who_ and it was tempting. On the other hand however this wasn’t her world anymore, she didn’t want to tread on toes, especially Pearl’s.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Peter said.

‘How?’ she asked tossing her head and looking down her nose at him playfully.

‘Because I know you,’ he replied, ‘Because I know you want Pearl to get everything out of her role, her time here, just like you did. I know you don’t want to impinge…. Even if deep down you’d love to go out there and be Clara again for a while.’ He smiled kindly. ‘Jenna you are _always_ welcome here. The fans, the crew, me…. Never doubt it.’

Damn him.

‘Stop it or you’ll have me snivelling.’

He laughed, ‘That’s as emotional as I’ll get I promise…. But just so you know, I’m delighted you’re here. I miss you… every day if I’m honest.’ He paused and swallowed briefly, ‘Now come on, let’s go and see some excited kiddies. Can’t leave them standing in the cold.’

 

Outside Pearl was posing with kids and adults alike and some crew were standing around in case any of the five year olds got out of hand. A cheer went up when they saw Peter approach and a few squeals of ‘Jenna!’ from shocked visitors. It sent a little thrill through her to be remember and to see them all so excited. Jenna jumped head first into the little throng and began signing and taking selfies. The most common requests were those for Peter and her together.

‘It’s such a unique relationship,’ one fan with pillar box red hair was saying, ‘All of time and space, all of the Doctor’s timestream. Clara is everywhere she’s prt of him…’ Jenna signed their _Doctor Who_ Annual and posed, dragging Peter into the shot from where he was signing someone else’s request.

‘Every version of the Doctor has known her and loved her,’ the fan went on, handing Jenna a TARDIS cookie jar to autograph. She grappled with its odd shape and glanced up to see if you could get Peter to hold it for a moment.

‘The thing is,’ the fan continued, ‘He still remembers her, there are all these clues…’

He’d stepped back towards the barrier behind which several more fans waited, proffering items. He’d been chatty and engaging up until now but as Jenna looked up she saw that ashen colour she had witnessed the night before pass over his face. He hesitated mid signature but finished it after a moment. She saw a stream of breath leave him, white in the cold air.

‘… there are all these moments right up to the last episodes of series 10…’

‘Peter?’ Jenna called. He turned to look at her, pale and pinched. ‘You ok?’ she mouthed.

He started to nod, and dismiss her worry once again. A woman by his shoulder tapped him on the arm for his attention, she had something left to sign or to say.

‘…all of these moments when you realise she’s with him every moment…’

Jenna stepped away from her rambling fan and into Peter’s space. She looked up at him, concerned.

‘Come on, its cold, we’ve signed a bunch of stuff, we can come back later,’ she said quickly, ‘Let’s go inside.’

‘No need, really…’ he answered smiling briefly at the woman’s whose hand still rested on his arm, ‘I want to make sure people get what they need.’

‘You need to sit down,’ she said, ‘You’ve gone grey.’ He winced as if to confirm this and she saw him bite down on his lip.

‘ _Peter…_ ’ she urged.

The voice behind her ‘… all these moments when you realise his hearts are still broken….’

Jenna felt him clutch suddenly at her upper arm and the grey tone of his face turned a shade paler. The muscles of his jaw were working hard suddenly, teeth gritted.

‘Peter?’

‘Inside,’ he managed to say. He looked at her with urgency. ‘Please, Jenna.’

Instinctively she knew he meant he couldn’t manage it himself so she wrapped an arm around his as subtly as possible and glared meaningfully at the concerned runner and various body guards to distract the crowd. They began talking at speed about how the cast needed to get back to work and in the meantime Jenna half propelled half dragged Peter back inside. She had thought she would get him to somewhere comfortable but as the main doors shut behind them he leaned against the interior wall and started undoing his coat collar desperately.

Jenna reached up to help him and flicked open the buttons easily. He stood breathing deep and fast, squeezing his eyes shut.

‘Peter this is not heartburn,’ she said tersely.

He began patting down his pockets, searching.

‘What? What is it?’ she asked. She was getting increasingly worried. Peter looked terrible and now he wasn’t speaking to her, couldn’t speak to her. On top of that he rarely left fans hanging so something told her this was bad. Whatever it was.

Suddenly he located what he was seeking in an inside pocket and withdrew a little bottle with a red cap. He flicked it off and sprayed something under his tongue, twice. Jenna stared between him and the medicine.

‘That’s for heart problems, my grandad… he had one… he…’ she looked back at Peter still braced on the wall, head down, sweating, trying to keep a grip.

‘It’ll pass,’ he panted, ‘Usually… passes.’

‘Oh my God,’ Jenna said. She quickly looked about her and found an old chair with a ripped seat cover, waiting for disposal. She dragged it to where he stood and guided him down onto it. Peter slumped forward, struggling out of his coat, hot and distressed. She knelt by him and held his hand. It was icy cold.

‘Why didn’t you say?’ she asked.

‘Not usually a huge problem….’ He managed. ‘Been a bit worse… recently.’

Jenna rolled her eyes, ‘Right well we are seeing a doctor _, today,’_ she emphasised _._ ‘Is that stuff helping?’

‘I think so…’ he started and then winced again, deeper this time, his words fell away and he made a strange pining noise followed by a painful groan. He passed a hand over his face, ‘Sick….’ He muttered.

‘Oh….’ Jenna looked around again quickly, ‘Um… ok… don’t be sick… I’ll find something…a bin or….’ she moved to stand but he made a noise beside her and she looked at him in alarm. Peter began hyperventilating, fighting to draw in breath and getting nothing from it.

‘Can’t… catch… my breath… Jenna…’

The tone of his voice was one she didn’t recognise coming from him. At least not coming from him in life, she had heard it once or twice in character. He was frightened and she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing as he clutched her. It was all happening fast as he pulled in rapid desperate lungfuls of air that did nothing to satisfy his body’s demands. She could feel his pulse thumping at his wrist where she held his hand.  Jenna’s adrenaline spilt into her bloodstream as she watched him; beads of sweat now on ghostly skin, running into one another, trickling down his temples. Those rapid breaths.

‘I think we should get an ambulance,’ she said.

‘No… ’

‘Peter for God’s sake…’

‘It’ll… pass…’ he took another two puffs of his spray and sat forward again, clutching his left shoulder. There was a deep frown on his forehead and she could almost hear his teeth grinding. Jenna gave him twenty seconds.

‘Peter it’s not passing…’

‘Give it… time… It.. always…… ah!’ his passive aggressive resistance suddenly gave way and she felt him grip her hands tight as his eyes flew open. ‘Jenna…’ His face registered shock for a moment and then he was clutching at his chest with his free hand, fighting to breathe against the pain. And he was losing.

‘Ambulance,’ he wheezed.

‘Peter!’ she cried out, and looked down the corridor to the body of the building, her phone was back on set in her bag and she wasn’t about to leave him, ‘Somebody help!’

Jenna tried to steady him with one arm around his shoulder. She watched him curl in on himself for a moment in agony before slowly unfurling against her.  She shouted again for help and supported him as he weakened in the chair, noticing with horror that his lips were turning blue, but taking hope from his grip as he held fast to her hand.

‘Peter,’ she said, ‘Come on, open your eyes and stay with me. Don’t you dare do this to me, please.’

She looked over his face, smoothed back his hair, damp with sweat and waited for some response.

‘Peter please!’ she said, her throat tightening with threatened tears, ‘Please, don’t do this….’

His eyes opened briefly and she let out a gasp of relief, but before she could say anything else he had leaned forward with superhuman effort and kissed her, once, hard, full on the lips, before falling back against her arm again, breathing like he was running a marathon.

‘What…?’ Jenna stuttered.

He looked at her apologetically.

‘I might never… get the chance…again,’ he said, and then the pain took him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The extent of Peter's illness is revealed as he heads to A&E. Detailed description of cardiac illness. May upset some readers.

It was all happening just too quickly; it felt like she was caught up in a tornado, just the two of them huddling close together while everyone around them lost their heads. Jenna had a tight grip of Peter’s hand, her other arm around his shoulders and her mind desperately trying to focus. She could hear people shouting for things; things like blankets and pillows, but they sounded like they were shouting for the sake of it rather than because they knew they would be helpful items. The crew were just panicking, trying to think what to do.

Thankfully the director had more sense and had called the ambulance. It amazed Jenna how fast five minutes could be while at the same time being so slow. It was barely any time, she knew, until the paramedics thundered through the door dropping bags and equipment around Peter and firing questions at them both in a strange tone of voice that was at the same time completely calm and patient, but filled with authority and urgency.

‘What’s your name?’

‘When did the pain start?’

‘Did you try your GTN, what did it do?’

‘How bad out of a scale of 1 to 10 is the pain now?’

‘Are you feeling sick?’

‘Where’s that pain going to? Down your arm?’

Jenna let them do their work right there in the corridor, sitting back on her heels to let them in but staying close enough to squeeze Peter’s hand.  He was still in the worn out chair, and he was gradually losing layers of his costume. Ridiculous costume, she had always thought, even under his heavy coat there was another velvet one, a hoodie, a shirt… it went on. One paramedic laughed gently,

‘You’re like a game of pass the parcel mate…’ his colleague helped him hitch up Peter’s t-shirt to expose his chest and an oxygen mask was slapped on his face. It just seemed so surreal. Wires attached to sticky pads being smacked onto his pale skin, monitors switching on and making peeping noises, a barrage of language she didn’t really follow between the two paramedics.

‘STEMI,’ the older one, who appeared to be in charge said looking carefully at the monitor  and then nodding at his colleague.

‘On it,’ the younger slimmer paramedic yanked open the huge bag he had carried in and began collecting equipment. ‘OK Peter just bear with me, got a couple things I need to do to get you feeling better, first stick this under your tongue for me, let it dissolve, good lad…’

The first paramedic took a hold of Peter’s free arm and rubbed over the soft skin in the fold of his elbow. He round on tourniquet and pulled it tight, the vessels popped on Peters skin.

‘Great veins, that’s what I like to see, now I’m going to have to put a little needle in here, get you some morphine and then we’ll talk about what’s going on….’

‘Just… do whatever you need to….’ Peter breathed.

Jenna could feel pure fear bubbling up under her so far controlled demeanour. Peter still looked grey and sweaty and the sense of urgency from the paramedics continued as they slickly inserted cannulas and drew up syringes of liquid. She had to keep it calm though, just like the paramedics, be calm, act like it’s all under control. It was under control. Wasn’t it? She caught the eye of the older man tending to Peter.

‘Here we go, here’s the good stuff first,’ he said pushing in the morphine, and then helping his colleague get together another few bits, ‘and some stuff to stop that queasy feeling.’

Peter watched the medicines go in, breath puffing against the interior of the mask and eyes slightly wife with discomfort. He fought for a few moments more and then Jenna saw him relax a bit, his eyes closing as the paramedic told him about the next stage.

‘Better? Yeah? Good stuff huh? Right on the one hand, looking at this monitor it would seem you’re having a heart attack, a fairly major one. But I don’t want you to panic quite yet because the type of heart attack you’re having, what we call a STEMI, it responds really well to clot busters. So with your permission I’m going to give you one of those now…. Now everything comes with a risk…. A risk of bleeding with this one, but it’s not a high risk and I tend to think the damage leaving this STEMI untreated til we get you to a hospital will do is a bigger risk… we’ve caught this fast, lets treat it fast… ’

Jenna looked back at Peter, partially hidden behind his oxygen mask, wires on his chest, ports for medicine now situated in his veins. The pain seemed to be easing a little, his face less pinched, but it did nothing to calm her fears. He was covered with equipment, the two men working on him, his clothes in disarray. It didn’t look real; it came as a shock. Peter was usually so full of life energy and fun and now he was fighting for that life. He was having a heart attack and he looked right then like any other man his age who was unwell, his usual youthful exuberance dimmed and his human vulnerability obvious.

 Grey hair, grey skin, lines. She’d never thought of him as old, he was her friend, they goofed about like children when they were together, the age gap had never occurred to her. He was just Peter, but Peter was putting the fear of God into her now. Men his age died of heart attacks, right? It could happen?

‘Let’s get you into the ambulance,’ the older paramedic was saying. Jenna snapped back to the scene in front of her. ‘You coming?’ the man asked.

Jenna looked between him and Peter for a second, unsure, she didn’t want him to be alone, but at the same time was it her place, maybe she should be calling Elaine? But she was in London and it would take hours to get there. But she shouldn’t assume she was the best person to go either. Maybe he wanted someone else with him, it wasn’t like she was family. She opened her mouth, unsure and then he caught her eye and gripped her hand tight.

‘Stay with me,’ he asked, peeling the mask from his face briefly, ‘please?’

‘Ok,’ Jenna nodded firmly. ‘As long as you need me to.’

The surreal feeling only got worse in the ambulance. Away from the familiar building where she had worked for so long and now bumping about in the back of a brightly lit vehicle, trying not to topple into the paramedic sitting with them and listening to the blaring siren above. She was sitting on a fold down orange seat by Peter’s head and she could hear the monitor bleeping out his heartbeat. Jenna watched the line of the trace flux and dive on the screen. She didn’t think she’d ever been so worried or so uncomfortable in her life and she felt selfish for even thinking it but the movement of the ambulance was making her feel sick and clammy.

‘You ok?’ the older paramedic asked her.

She nodded, a little afraid to open her mouth and he smiled.

‘You’re not the first person to feel ill in the back of this thing…. Well I mean obviously not….’ He laughed harder, ‘I mean someone _accompanying_ a patient… do you need a bowl?’ he raised his eyebrows playfully.

Jenna shook her head and held on to Peter’s hand tight. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the man retrieve something from the shelves above Peter and place it subtly by her. She took the bowl and placed it on her lap, gratefully.

‘Ok how are we doing?’ the paramedic asked the back of the vehicle in general. Peter opened his eyes and watched with a sort of morbid and distant curiosity as the monitor measured his heartrate and drew out his ECG.

‘Blood pressure’s a bit low but that can happen, lets hook you up to some fluid, nice and gently though, how’s the pain?’

‘Better…’ Peter said roughly, ‘But still making itself known.’

A sympathetic nod and a rummage for a top up dose. ‘Going to give you another five, we’re nearly there. Plan is get you in, get you seen by the doc, finish this infusion. Nine times out of ten this fixes things, but we want to be sure right? You know people these days don’t stay in hospital for weeks after a heart attack, it’s all about rehabilitation now. Bust the clot out, change your lifestyle a touch…’

‘Change… my lifestyle? How will… I do that?’

Jenna rubbed the hand she held. ‘He already goes to the gym, eats right, doesn’t really drink or smoke…’

‘Those are all good things,’ the paramedic agreed, ‘But maybe you need to slow down a little. I don’t know much about these things but it must be pretty hectic being you and no-one is getting any younger, I’m fifty seven this year and I feel it now, those early shifts, long days, not sure I can keep up the pace much longer and there’s no shame in that…. That’s just life, got to look after yourself…’

She watched Peter slump a little on the stretcher where he was sitting propped against pillows to help his breathing and she could almost read his mind. The job was hectic but it wasn’t the kind of job where you could request less of that. It was all or nothing. He could either manage to play the Doctor or not. The long hours, the constant publicity and commitments. He had to be as close to one hundred percent fit as possible and he had thought he had been, she had thought so too. It was such a shock and she wondered if his pale skin was no longer due to pain but down to the realisation his life might be about to change hugely. That he wasn’t in control of it.

Her heart ached for him, she knew how much it meant and how scared he must be.

‘Hey,’ Jenna said, ‘Wait until you’ve had all the treatment, until you know properly what the situation is, then make decisions, not now,’ she encouraged and watched him nod a little stiffly and swallow hard. His eyes were wet and reddened just at the thought he couldn’t continue his dream job, so drew him closer to her and kissed his temple, wound her fingers into his soft hair.      

‘You’re going to be ok,’ she said softly, ‘You will, just you see.’ She could feel his chest heaving under her a touch but he leaned his head against hers and closed his eyes.

And that’s when she started to realise. Between that moment in the ambulance and the moment in the emergency room that would come later and finalise every emotion, make every decision for her that she would ever need. All the way along the pavement of the drop off area outside the hospital, holding his hand as the stretcher was wheeled in. Waiting in the corner of the resuscitation area as he was examined quickly by the receiving registrar. Watching as more monitors and drips where set up and exchanged for those that were put up in the ambulance.

Jenna thanked the paramedics and watched them leave. She went for a coffee while the doctors worked, reluctantly prising herself away under the repeated assurances from the nursing staff that he was in good hands. She stood by a vending machine trying hard not to catch anyone’s eye as the beverage dispensed. The feeling was growing, her heart filling up as surely as the flimsy paper cup in the dispenser, spluttering and growing in fits and starts.

She watched the poor quality drink trickle slowly into the cup. Did Peter want coffee? She always got him one. Would he be allowed it? Maybe it was bad for him now? Should she get one anyway? She chewed her thumbnail and debated, decided not to; caffeine wasn’t good for hearts right? Getting coffee had never been so complicated.

All of this was complicated. The feeling inside her getting stronger the more she thought of him lying in that room. She wanted to go back, he’d asked her to stay with him and surely the doctors were done now. Jenna wandered along the corridor, head down to avoid peoples’ gaze, and peered through the glass to recus. She could see the blue uniforms of nurses and the sandy coloured chinos and white shirt of the registrar. There was relative calm in the room which had to be a good sign?

Then the sea of staff parted just a moment and she saw him. Propped upright, stripped to the waist, oxygen mask and wires and a monitor bleeping calmly by his side. A nurse stopped to take some readings and smiled at him and Jenna watched him lower his mask to reply.

He was ok. Was he? He looked ok. Less pale, some colour in his cheeks. Maybe this had all been a mistake, maybe it wasn’t as serious as they’d feared. Jenna’s insides, still disturbed from the ambulance ride, did a few more flips and churns. She placed her hand on the door hesitantly but something made her pause.

She had been so scared. It was normal she figured to be scared when someone you cared about was suddenly taken ill, but this feeling was like none she recognised from previous experience. Family members and friends had been taken ill before and she’d rushed to their beside but she’d never felt so frantic or vulnerable. She’d never clung to the person the way she had gripped Peters hand. She’d never prayed. She’d never been particularly religious but she was realising now as she watched him that that was exactly what she had been doing the last few hours, over and over in her head, bargaining with a God she never usually addressed.

_Please let him be ok. Please let him be ok._

Had her prays been answered then? Jenna pushed the door open and walked to his bedside, smiling politely at his attending nurse. Peter lowered his mask and looked up at her.

‘Hi,’ he said.

‘How are you?’

‘Significantly better, at least I feel better…. The doctor disagrees…’

‘Why?’

‘The clot buster thing only did half the job apparently, tracing still looks off….’ He breathed deeply from the mask for a moment. Jenna rubbed his shoulder.

‘So what do they want to do?’ she asked.

‘An angiogram…and soon.’

‘Ok I’m not up to speed with _Casualty_ so….’

He smiled and lowered the mask again. ‘They say it’s quite simple, they put something in my wrist, a wire or something, snake it up to my heart and open the arteries that way.’

Jenna felt a bit pale. Peter spotted it and laughed at her. ‘Oi I’m the sick one! You look greener than me.’

‘Is it risky?’ she asked seriously.

‘Less so than leaving me as I am.’

Jenna wetted her lips, ‘Well do what they tell you because you scared the life out of me,’ she said sincerely. ‘I’ve never been so frightened in my life.’

Peter turned his head and kissed the hand on his shoulder, ‘That makes two of us…. Listen I um… about the kiss.’ He looked so embarrassed she found it rather sweet.

‘Oh Peter I’ve been so worried I haven’t even thought about it,’ Jenna said and then realised it was true. She’d been bowled over with shock at the time but then things had moved so fast she’d forgotten it completely. All that mattered was that he was ok.

‘I should explain though…’ he said.

‘No need, listen has someone called Elaine?’ she felt she had to ask. She wanted to be his rock right now, but that wasn’t her place.

He looked down and away, ‘She’s in Scotland looking after her cousin, I don’t want to worry her or have her rushing down the motorway. It’d just worry me… and my blood pressure is all over the place apparently,’ he said glancing at the monitor where the figures flashed unhappily.

‘But she’d want to know…’

He said nothing, his jaw muscles tense.

‘Even if you explained that you’re doing OK and she doesn’t need to come down…’ she pushed.

‘Just leave it Jenna,’ he said a little curtly. She flinched at the unfamiliar tone in his voice.

‘Ok,’ she said very quietly and subtly slipped her hand off his shoulder. He sat motionless for a moment before covering his eyes with one hand and trying to settle himself. She could sense he was sorry but that he was also close to breaking. He didn’t trust himself to speak so she gave him pause. He’d be ready in a few minutes but at that moment a younger Doctor approached him, all eagerness and curiosity, stethoscope around his neck. He wore glasses and a tie and was immediately an irritant.

‘Hello,’ he said, ‘I’m Dr Ross, I was just wondering, you know Doctor to Doctor,’ Jenna watched him stumble over his awful joke and grew instinctively defensive but before she could step in to bat away the young man’s autograph request Peter snapped.

‘Listen I’m usually pretty good with all this,’ he said tersely, ‘but right now I’m busy being very ill so no, I don’t want to sign anything, I’d much rather be left alone and not be pestered by fans for once in my life, just until I get past this massive heart attack.’

The junior doctor reeled and to his credit apologised saying it hadn’t been appropriate behaviour to come and ask. He slinked away red face. Jenna glared at Peter.

‘You could just say no, come back later,’ she hissed.

‘Why? There will just be a queue of them if I do that,’ he said rubbing his forehead and then blanching white. ‘I’m sorry… I just… I don’t feel so great and I’m a patient… I’m ill…. They shouldn’t….’

‘Are you ok?’ she asked alarmed.

‘I…’ the monitor beside him began flashing numbers in red and a small alarm rang out. Jenna could hear footsteps rushing over and instinctively stepped back from the bed, his hand falling from her grip as she was guided out of the way, the alarm growing louder and changing tone. Peter slumped into the pillows and the bed was lowered with a thump, bodies surrounding him and a trolley of equipment hurtling past her.

Jenna glanced at the monitor again, the line on the screen was flat.

And that was the moment. The conclusion of her realisation. Between the moment in the ambulance when she held him close and promised he would be ok, and the moment she saw that trace, she had tried to name the feeling that had been emerging inside her. And now she knew. He wasn’t just an old fond colleague or a dear close friend. It wasn’t so simple as that. He meant more to her than anyone, than she had ever known it until now.

She loved him.

She couldn’t let him die.

‘Peter!’ she whispered as she was taken from the room.


	4. Chapter 4

They had found her a little room to pace about in, her restlessness doing nothing but worry and disrupt the other friends and relatives hanging around ITU waiting for news about their own loved ones. Now Jenna was counting her steps across the worn pale green carpet, occasionally sitting and checking her phone before her twitchy muscles had her up again and moving.

Cardiac arrest. Peter’s heart had stopped as a result of the as yet unresolved heart attack. The clot buster hadn’t finished the job, just as he had said minutes before. She’d never seen anything so fast and smooth as the way the medical team dived for him, even down to the nurse who walked her from the room, almost backwards as she strained to see what was happening. The last thing she saw was the flatline.

What was going on? What was happening? She demanded answers, demanded to see him. Would they just please tell her if he was ok? If he was alive? Jenna had paced outside of recus grabbing hold of every member of staff who passed through the doors. Tell me tell me tell me.

Twenty minutes or so later the double doors flew open and a trolley emerged festooned with equipment, wires and a monitor tucked down the side of the patient’s knees. Two drip stands were poking up out of the corners of the bed with multiple things suspended from them, bags of clear fluid with things written on them to indicate the additives and medicine suspended within. There was an oxygen tank under the bed with tubing leading to a mask and under that mask was Peter.

Jenna’s heart leapt and she rushed to the trolley. One of the doctors, the registrar she had seen working on Peter, was walking out with him and stopped her gently. She tried to peer over his arm.

‘He’s ok, stable…’ he said.

‘Why’s he asleep? What happened? Shouldn’t he be awake if he’s ok?’

The doctor glanced at his sleeping patient.

‘It took a few minutes to get his heart going again, but we managed it fairly quickly. He’s under sedation for two reasons now. He needs the angiogram to unblock his arteries and then he needs to be kept cool for a while… to protect his brain.’

Jenna frowned and tried to take it all in but the words were just swirling in her head.

‘I don’t follow…’

The doctor put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Angiogram should take an hour, then he’ll be in ITU overnight. You can visit then. We’ll wake him tomorrow, late on. You know he’s going to be asleep for all of that, you should try and get some rest once he’s through the procedure.’

‘I want to stay,’ she said like the determined little foal she was, she stood up straight and squared her shoulders. The doctor smiled.

‘Ok, who am I to argue, you want to stay, you’re are more than welcome. But don’t neglect yourself get a cup of tea and a sandwich, it’ll be a long night.’

Jenna piled into the lift with Peter, his trolley and some medical staff. Apparently he couldn’t be moved without them in case he arrested again in the lift. That news made her feel even sicker than she already had been but they made it to the third floor. The trolley slid out making to go left to the Cath Lab, Jenna was directed to ITU and its waiting area, open twenty four-seven for worried loved ones.

She was a few metres down the corridor when the urge struck her, ‘Wait’ she said and trotted back to the bed. Jenna took Peter’s hand and leaned over him as much as she could given her height. She placed a kiss on his forehead and closed her eyes for a moment before stepping back and watching him be wheeled away for the angiogram.

‘In case I don’t get another chance,’ she echoed and made her way sadly to Intensive Care.

That’s when the pacing started and when the nurses moved her. Not only was she incessantly active but she was famous and people were staring. She couldn’t believe some wanted autographs when all of them were gathered to support sick relatives and friends, but it seemed they did. She was glad phones were off or they’d want selfies too. Jenna was ushered into the side room and told Peter would be back soon.

Sure enough an hour later the doctor reappeared with the trolley trundling beside him and Peter lying beneath a cooling blanket, wires and tubes everywhere. The angiogram was completed and Jenna immediately collared the doctor for explanations. He patiently took her through the procedure and what was still to come, twelve hours of hypothermia followed by twelve of slow reheating.

And then she was sat by the trolley-bed watching Peter breathe. He had a tube for that too and more going into his arms, some putting fluids in with medicine and at least one measuring pressure or something in his arteries. They’d given him something to stop him shivering as they lowered his temperature to thirty-two degrees and they’d put something in his bladder to measure that temperature constantly. Jenna’s eyes traced the catheter than led to a bag of urine suspended on the bed and to some sort of device flushing him with freezing water. She shuddered, it felt so awkward, seeing him so helpless, all this _stuff_ going in and out his body unknown to him. It just felt horrible.

At the same time though he was getting the best of care, indignities came with that, the important thing was he was alive. She slipped a cautious hand under the cold space blanket and felt his fingers. He was icy. Jenna shuffled her seat closer.

‘Hi,’ she said self-consciously. ‘You’re freezing and that’s apparently good for you but it makes me think of… of how the Doctor is supposed to have a low body temperature and…. Well you’re taking this a bit too far Peter.’

She waited watching his ventilator pump a few more breaths into him.

‘I mean I know you wear your own clothes and you play your own guitar as him but you don’t need to drop your core temperature to sixteen that’s a little too authentic.’

She looked up at the monitor and at his steady heartbeat. ‘The doctor, the real one, he said it went well,’ she went on, ‘That you just need to get through tonight and tomorrow and hopefully then when you wake up things will be fine. Your heart… your brain… that’s why they’re keeping you cold, for your brain. You’re bad enough at learning lines so we insisted on protected your it….’

She looked about awkwardly, up and down the long room with ten beds. Each one was surrounded by equipment and little trolleys and board detailing every thing from respiration rate to magnesium levels. Each bed had a nurse, Peters was currently watching them from the nurses station in the centre of the room, just keeping an eye but trying to give some privacy. It was a strange, brilliantly white and terrifying environment full of noise, alarms, bleeping. Bloodied and beaten patients lay alongside the cachexic and obviously dying. Jenna looked back at Peter for something familiar.

‘I’m not sure how long I can stand this place,’ she whispered, ‘It’s scary. The other people here look really ill and… well I won’t believe you’re that ill. Get better. Hurry up.’

She continued to hold his cold hand and vowed internally to talk to him as long as she could, to be upbeat and not let him become one of the vegetating patients alongside him. He was going to wake up, and be normal, and get well. He had to.

‘Yeah don’t think you’ve got away with it, that kiss…’ she said as the lights went off around the ward that night and she was still sitting close to him. ‘You need to explain it, expand on it. Because I’ve been doing a lot of thinking while you’ve been getting sick. You gave me the fright of my life and that’s kick started something. Or rather brought it to the surface. I’ve got all these weird feelings and I don’t know if that’s healthy or right or what because you’re Peter. My _friend_ Peter, who is like twice my age and recovering from a heart attack and I can just imagine what people will be saying… but all I can think of is that feeling, inside, I don’t think it will go away now. And I wonder if it’s the same for you? And what to do if it is…’

She trailed off yawning and rubbing her eyes, the dry air of ITU making them itch. She looked won the line of beds, spotting one or two other dedicated relatives, some with newspapers, one with an ipad. She wished she had something to do, a crossword, or a book, she wished….

 

Jenna woke up suddenly and sat up fast. Someone had placed a pillow behind her head and levered her back in the visitors chair so that she wouldn’t get a cramp. She quickly turned to see Peter next to her and his nurse removing some of the equipment around him.

‘Warming up time,’ she explained, ‘Nice and slow. Be a few hours yet. Why don’t you grab some breakfast?’

‘Um… yeah ok… um…can I ask…?’ Jenna said.

‘Yes?’

‘Once he’s awake, once he’s warmed up and he gets checked over… he will be ok won’t he?’

‘We can never be one hundred percent,’ the nurse started in a rehearsed manner, jenna felt her face fall a little, ‘but he has a pretty good chance. His resuscitation was relatively straight forward and fast. The important thing with cardiac arrest is to fix the cause ASAP. We did that with the angiogram, his arteries are stented. We’ve reversed the cause and by doing all of that quickly we hope we’ve protected his brain.’ She adjusted the blanket over him. ‘I think he’ll do ok,’ she finished, ‘You get a feel for it after a while…. He’s not an old man, he has a good level of fitness…. We’re very hopeful.’

Jenna nodded cautiously but with gratitude and got up a little creakily from the chair. He wasn’t old, just as she had always believed. And yet here she was sitting by his bedside in ITU after a heart attack. He wasn’t old, but he was _older_. She had been missing him so badly over the last few months, longing to do simple things like grab a coffee with him or watch a film. Just to spend time with him like they used to. She kept thinking, they could do that any time, Peter was always around, but suddenly maybe he wasn’t. Jenna felt like she’d been kicked in the guts. He could have died. She was thankful she ahd made the effort to come and see him this week; she had almost spent the time with a girlfriend elsewhere. What if she had and she had got the news of his collapse? What if he hadn’t made it?

She spent the day drinking coffee and flicking through magazines in the ITU waiting area. The staff buzzed around the beds and took measurements at regular intervals, pulling off blood sample after blood sample and gazing at monitors. She didn’t want to get in the way of ward rounds and new urgent admissions, so she tried to limit her presence but by evening things were quieter and she’d taken up her place by the bed. It was dark and cold outside and in the brightly lit corridor beyond the ward the nursing staff were hanging tinsel. Jenna read by the tiny lamp over Peter’s bed.

She heard footsteps and looked up to see the same registrar from the previous night. She wondered if those were the same chinos and if he had been at home at all, the five o’clock shadow was a dead giveaway.

‘Hi,’ he said, ‘How’s our star patient?’

‘I… I think he’s doing ok?’ she guessed. Certainly the nursing staff thought it was going smoothly for him and Jenna had been eyeballing the numbers all day.

‘He is,’ the doctor agreed, pulling on some gloves while a nurse tied his apron behind him. He leaned forward to fiddle with equipment. ‘If I could get you to stand back a little,’ he said kindly, ‘we’re going to try and wake him now he’s warm.’

‘And you’ll know then… about his brain?’ she asked.

‘For the majority yes, I’m hoping he wakes up, sees you and remembers how lucky he is,’ the doctor said.

Jenna blushed hard, ‘Oh we’re not… he’s… I….’ she trailed off as the doctor was focused on Peter. Was this what they had all been thinking? That they were an item already? The nurse put a hand on her arm and drew her back just slightly, but enough to obscure the view of the warming and waking.

‘We’re not a couple,’ Jenna heard herself say, catching the nurses eye briefly while at the same time trying to see the bed. The nurse nodded unconvinced. ‘I mean we are close, really close, we worked together all that time…’ she rambled on trying to convince herself and the staff. The doctor worked on, slowly waking Peter, offering reassurance to him, asking him to squeeze his hands if he understood. To blink.

Jenna couldn’t see and was starting to fidget, talk too much. Anxious about what people thought, and about Peter. The nurse rubbed her back soothingly. ‘So yeah, not a couple, he’s very special to me, _very.’_ She went on, convincing no-one. She was still tying herself into embarrassing knots when she heard a cough.

‘That’s it,’ the doctor was saying, ’nice deep breaths, cough it away.’ Jenna’s immediate instinct was to gently move past the nurse blocking her view.

‘Peter!? Is he awake? Really?’

He was half sitting up supported by staff and clearly bleary and heavily sedated. The coughing came hard and harsh at first then seemed to settle. The bed was adjusted and he was eased back into a sitting position, oxygen mask over his mouth and nose and his eyes closed. Jenna looked quickly over him, half the tubes were missing, half still sticking out.

‘Good,’ the doctor said, ‘Now… someone had been waiting here for you…. Peter…’ he rubbed his sternum, ‘Peter,’

Peter’s eyes opened and he looked ahead of him with another small cough. Jenna was encouraged forward by the nurse behind her. ‘Go on.’

She swallowed and stood closer to his line of sight. ‘Peter?’

His blue eyes snapped straight to her and he breathed in suddenly, half spluttering, half coughing as he reached with his hands for her. She took both of them and came closer, letting him lean back against the pillows again. His smile appeared suddenly and brightly behind the clear mask.

‘Jenna…’ he said hoarsely, ‘Jenna.’

‘You know who I am right?’ she asked.

‘I’m not going to forget you…’ he answered, eyes wandering over her features. With a sudden movement she surged forward and slipped her arms around him, kissing him once, twice, three times on the temple, in his hair. She felt him cough again and released him quickly, worried she’d done damage but instead he just smiled at her tiredly.

‘What happens now?’ Jenna asked the doctor, keeping her arms around Peter.

‘Well that very much depends…’

‘On?’

‘On how well Peter feels by tomorrow, we’ll take it day by day, but we’d like to get him out of ITU, get rid of all these tubes and wires, give him a couple of days recovery time and then reassess and see if he’s fit for home.’

‘That all sounds a bit fast,’ Jenna said.

‘Fast… is fine…’ Peter croaked, ‘I don’t want to be here long.’

‘People don’t stay long these days, even after something as serious as MI, but I promise that’s normal. People want to get home. I’m sure we can get a plan together for your care… now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a few more people to see,’ the doctor said.

‘Home?’ Jenna said as the doctor moved away. ‘You think you’ll be up to a trip to London?’

He looked down as she pulled back and settled in the chair. ‘I’ll just stay here… I’ll need to get back to work.’

‘Oh no!’ Jenna admonished, ‘No, no it can wait. You are going to rest. No-one expects you to hole up in your apartment for three days and then turn up on set.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘Peter for God’s sake!’

‘Ok maybe I won’t be fit enough for work, but the Christmas break is coming up anyway and I can rest up in the apartment.’

‘Alone? Over Christmas?’ she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

He looked up at her. ‘Why not?’

There was something horribly lonely and empty about him that she’d never seen before, and she added that feeling automatically to his defensive response when she had mentioned Elaine before. Now she was worried.

‘Peter I know now isn’t the time but is something wrong… I mean you and Elaine…’

He looked away sharply. ‘Not now,’ he said quietly.

‘You guys… you… have you split?’ she asked almost disbelievingly.

Peter said nothing, just started up at the tiled ceiling for a minute before gathering his strength. ‘We’re not quite what we used to be,’ he confessed, ‘Put it this way she won’t be Florence Nightingale for me.’

He looked so pale and still and alone at that moment that Jenna’s heart broke for him.

‘No?’ she said, ‘Well I will be then. I always liked the story of Florence.’ He turned his head to look at her puzzled. ‘You’ll come to the cottage I rented,’ she said, ‘recover there for a bit. I’ll even get a lamp if you like….’

In the dark of the ward that evening, Peter's smile felt like sunshine.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is discharged from hospital.

It took a while, longer than expected, some more time in hospital being monitored and doing various tests. Jenna went with Peter to some, it wasn’t like she had anything else to do, she said, until he pointed out she was supposed to be relaxing on holiday. He felt guilty, it was obvious, and kept trying to persuade her to stick to her original plan of a week in the pretty cottage, see some friends and then home, but she wouldn’t hear of it.

She’d already extended the rental time and made an agreement with the landlord. Luckily the depths of December were not busy times for cottage rental in Wales and it was easy enough to free up the place for several weeks if they were needed. Peter repeatedly made it clear that he would not go back to London and he would manage by himself. Jenna repeatedly told him she wouldn’t let him. It got heated once or twice with the irritation that comes from pure concern on both sides, and then he seemed to give up, hand himself to her and she realised how tired and low he was.

That was all part of it apparently, at least according to the nurse she spoke to one evening when Peter was particularly flat. Patients felt that way, she said, partly because of what was happening in their body, and party because of the psychological shock. He’d more or less died that day on the trolley, it was a lot to work through in his mind. Jenna shuddered at the words, she wasn’t sure she could work through it either.

The days dragged on and the view from the hospital window grey darker and more grey. Test results came back and were according to the medics, on the good side. Peter met with a therapist who would make recommendations about food, exercise and lifestyle. Jenna could feel him tensing, but he stayed quiet and civil. All the time she knew he was thinking of the show and whether he’d be able to manage it. Arrangements had been made, the Christmas break extended a little so that decisions could be taken when he was a little better, but all the same she could see the fear in him, that this was it. The end of his dream.

At last the day came for him to escape the ward. Jenna had spent the day before getting supplies for the cottage as Christmas crept closer. He hadn’t said what he intended to do, so just in case she had stocked up with enough food for a nuclear war. He needed cheering up so she ‘decked the halls’ and hung tinsel on the bannisters of the stairs. She got a Christmas tree. His character might be bah humbug but Peter himself loved the season and she hoped it would lift his spirits. She turned up the heating a little before she left to collect him, something niggling at the back of her mind, was he going to bypass London completely this holiday? And if he did insist on remaining at Wales could she explain to her own family why she couldn’t leave him?

Because she couldn’t. Jenna pulled the heavy front door closed and trudged over to her car in the cold and wet. She wouldn’t let him sit here alone, or worse sit in his apartment, while she went for Christmas dinner on the other side of the country. The thought of him by himself gave her actual physical pain. She sat at the driver side and gripped the wheel. She’d been trying not to think too hard about the feelings that had hit her, she’d tried to rationalise that she’d been frightened and the circumstances had been extreme, but every time she visited him her heart lifted a little to see him. Even if he was down, or feeling ill, or quiet, all she wanted to do was sit with him and try and win a smile. If she did that her day was complete.

Jenna checked herself and pushed the thoughts aside. Peter was ill, he needed space and time to recover, not her declaring her confused emotions. Something was clearly up with him and Elaine so the last thing he needed was her adding to that when he’d had a heart attack. She could love him quietly and not make waves. That was the sensible thing to do.

Sensible. Her and Peter? When they were together they were the least sensible people ever to walk the earth. She turned the ignition. This was going to be an interesting few weeks.

Peter was signing autographs from his wheelchair when she arrived on the ward, and she immediately trotted over and pushed into the line. He looked up sharply assuming she was a fan and then grinned at her. Doing nice things for people made him happy.

‘Hi,’ he said, ‘I figured I owed the staff a debt of gratitude,’

‘Peter! You’re supposed to be taking it easy…’

‘I am, it’s only a few autographs…’

‘Says the man sitting in a wheelchair after a massive heart attack,’ she hissed.

He rolled his eyes and reached for the next thing to sign, quickly checking who was offering it. ‘I recognise you but I can’t put a name to you sorry,’ he said.

‘It’s Dr Ross, you were pretty sick when I saw you last, told me to get lost,’ he chuckled.

Peter’s face absolutely fell, ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry,’ he passed a hand over his face. ‘I was awful, I’m so, so sorry ….’

‘I’m sure Dr Ross understands,’ Jenna said shortly, looking around at the growing throng. There were staff appearing from all corners of the room. ‘Don’t these people have patients to look after?’

‘Jenna they all work very hard, why shouldn’t they get an autograph? Maybe even a photo?’

‘No… oh no we draw the line at selfies, you’ll wear yourself out.’

Peter ignored her and handed Dr Ross his Doctor Who Annual, ‘I really am sorry,’ he was saying, ‘I’m usually quite happy to do this, to chat about the show, I just…’

‘I shouldn’t have done what I did, it’s me who should be apologising, you were ill, probably frightened, I should have been more sensitive…’ the doctor said graciously.

‘I was terrified,’ Peter confirmed.

‘No pictures!’ Jenna said louder than normal. Peter shot her a hard glance. ‘Maybe when he’s a bit better he can come back and thank you all properly then, but really I need to get him home.’

There was a mumble of disappointed understanding. A nurse came forward and placed a bag of medicines in Peter’s lap while Jenna hung his bag off the handles of the chair.

‘Jenna, please…’ Peter said, ‘I’m old enough now to know my limits.’

She stepped behind him and let the brake off his wheelchair. ‘You have never known your limits. You push and push to keep everyone happy. You drink too much coffee and that horrible red bull stuff, you never sit down longer than a few minutes, you don’t get enough sleep…’ she was wheeling him through the door and out into the corridor.

‘Um.. I don’t really need a wheelchair Jen, it’s not far to the doors…’

‘Shut up. You see what I mean!’ she said dramatically. ‘Just stay where you are and do what you’re told for once…’

There was no sound for a few moments except the squeak of the wheels and then she heard a soft giggle from below.

‘It’s not funny,’ she said keeping up the pretence while watching his shoulders shake.

‘It is a bit,’ he managed by means of reply. Jenna smirked. ‘Is this what I have to look forward to over the next few weeks?’

‘Yes,’ she said snootily and he corpsed. ‘You are under my care, Peter, you have to do as I say and behave yourself.’

She saw him lean back in the chair and couldn’t resist but to lift one hand and ruffle his silver hair as they moved along. He laughed a relaxed familiar laugh.

‘Get off!’ he said unconvincingly.

‘I’m only bossing you around because…’

‘Because you’re bossy?’ he asked.

‘No! Because I want you to get well,’ she said, ‘I want you to do everything the doctors say, take all your medicine and get as well as humanly possible.’

‘Jenna…’

 ‘I want you to be around a long time,’ she said in a softer tone that commanded attention, ‘You scared me half to death. Please don’t ever do that again.’

‘I don’t intend to,’ he assured.

‘Better not. I’d… I’d miss you,’ she cut herself short of what she wanted to say, and stopped in front of the automatic doors at the front of the hospital, waiting for them to slide open. During that slow second Peter reached up for her right hand and held it, bringing it to his lips and kissing her fingers softly. The action brought tears to her eyes but she squeezed his hand back and then took up the handles of the wheelchair again.

‘Come on you,’ she said brightly, as the doors slid open at last.

 

The cottage was well hidden in an area of woodland and not too far by car from a beautiful sandy bay. About a mile down the road was the far where the landlord lived and the junction to the main route to town. It was a two up two down number but with an open plan downstairs and two bedrooms up top. Jenna decided she would donate the master bedroom to Peter and take the bunkbeds in the cramped spare room. He’d probably have a fit when he discovered it and then they would bicker for a bit but if she held out long enough she was sure she could wear him down.

They pulled up outside an hour or so after leaving the hospital, the sky grey and overcast and the wind chilly and smelling of sea. Peter looked exhausted already and had pulled his collar up around his neck and face. Jenna glanced across as she put her hand on the door handle.

‘Peter! Why didn’t you say you were cold?’

‘I’m fine, really,’ he said. Jenna shook her head and hopped out the car before he could open his side. She trotted round, pulled the handle and stood in front of him as he got up. Finally she slid one arm around his back and half shoved, half kicked the door shut.

‘Jenna what are doing?’

‘Making sure you’re OK and don’t feel faint,’

‘I don’t…’

Jenna eyed him suspiciously. ‘The doctor said it might make you feel wobbly….’

She could see him hold back his next comment briefly and replace it with something else. Something more polite.

‘I’m fine, shall we just go inside?’ he cocked his head at the door, an old fashioned wooden thing with heavy iron fittings.

‘Ok, ok, getting the hint, I’ll get your bag.’

‘Jen I am perfectly capable of…’ but she was away, had grabbed it and made for the door. Peter slowly walked over the cold ground and stood behind her as she pushed her way in, a wave of warmth hitting her face. She ushered him into the living area.

‘Jenna it’s about three hundred degrees in here, it’s like the centre of the sun!’

‘You run cold,’ she said putting down his stuff.

‘Not that cold, I’m not a flipping Ice Warrior!’

She giggled and went to fill the kettle. Behind her Peter was stripping off layers and laying them on the end of one couch. By the time she returned with tea he was comfortably ensconced at the other end in just his trousers and t-shirt. The heat of the room had given him warmth in his cheeks and now that he was away from hospital, no longer surrounded by equipment and people in uniforms, he looked much like his old self, except tired. Jenna stood for a moment just looking and feeling relief wash over her.

He looked up. ‘Jen are you going to come and sit down, you know, bring the tea?’

She didn’t trust her voice so she just nodded and placed the teas on the little table beside him. As she straightened he caught her eye with concern.

‘This hasn’t been very nice for either of us has it?’ he said.

‘Don’t, you’ll get me started.’ she said sniffing bravely. He laughed and took her hand.

‘Come, sit.’

Jenna stepped around him and joined him on the couch, tucking her legs under her and leaning against the left hand side of his chest.

‘Ouch,’ he flinched.

‘Sorry! Forgot. How’s it looking?’

‘Bruised,’ he replied, but a different shade of bruised.’

‘Just be grateful they didn’t break any ribs.’

‘They could have broken as many as they liked, I‘m just glad they got me started again.’

Jenna gently placed her hand over his bruised and battered chest and stroked carefully. ‘So am I,’ she said. The tears welled up quickly and took control of her before she could stop them. Before she knew it she was being held against his chest, sobbing into his t-shirt with gratitude for him just being alive. She kept trying to pull back, knowing he was tender still from the CPR but he held her fast.

‘Just cry,’ he said, ‘Let it out, a little pain on my part doesn’t matter.’


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the cottage..... its time for some revelations.

The living area was peaceful and warm and Jenna’s breathing had come back to normal, her throat felt easier and her cheeks were drying. She tentatively brought her fingers to her face and checked for puffiness, she didn’t want to be puffy, although why that now mattered in front of Peter she didn’t know. He’d seen her first thing looking bleary and dishevelled plenty of times as she arrived at the studio for make up.

Still if she lay there against him a little longer she might be able to subtly wipe away her mascara stains unseen. On the other hand he had held her gently for so long already and she knew he must be uncomfortable. Uncomplaining but uncomfortable. Typical Peter. She sniffed and wiped her nose with a finger before moving to sit up.

 ‘Are you using my shirt to blow your nose?’ Peter asked suspiciously. Jenna snorted and then quickly brought her hands to her face. That was her first mistake.

‘Urgh… urgh… wait… hang on…’

Peter dissolved into his beautiful honest laugh behind her as she grabbed tissues from a nearby box.

‘I only ask because my chest feels damp,’ he explained giggling, ‘right about where you’ve been this last hour.’ He raised his eyebrows playfully. Jenna chuckled as she blew her nose.

‘Cry you said… let it out…’

‘I didn’t know how much was going to _come_ out! I could have drowned! That’s _two_ near death experiences in a week!’

She threw a soggy tissue at him and he pulled a face as he removed it from his lap. Peter looked up at her a little more seriously as she tucked a further tissue up her sleeve. ‘You feeling better?’ he asked.

‘Sorry, yes, I just got a bit… wound up I guess. I was so worried. When I saw you in recus… in intensive care, it was so surreal. I kept thinking it was some sort of show we were filming and you’d wake up any second but it just went on and on. And then all those tests, all this jargon I didn’t really understand...’ she found herself getting emotional again and he signalled her back beside him. ‘Sorry,’ she said as she sat.’

‘I’ll be ok,’ he said in a calm voice, ‘The worst of it’s past.’

Jenna looked at him steadily. ‘Do you really feel that way?’ she asked. ‘I mean if you do that’s brilliant but if it were me, I’d be scared witless about coming out of hospital.’

Peter looked away briefly and she knew she had him. ‘It’s ok to be scared after everything,’ she said.

He took a deep breath and sighed, ‘I know… I know I just… I feel like if I let myself go there I’ll be terrified for the rest of my days. Who’s to know if this will happen again? If I wont be so lucky?’

‘Shh… you’re going to be fine.’

‘Why? How? We don’t know that?’

‘Because you’re actually taking some medicine, you’ve actually seen some doctors? You’re not just trudging along thinking everything will be fine and neglecting obvious problems like _having chest pains_.’ She watched him look suitably guilty.  ‘And you’re going to stop pushing yourself too,’ she added, knowing that was where the real challenge lay.

‘Oh am I now?’ he said, eyes wide.

‘Peter this is serious, you have to.’

‘How?’ he asked, ‘How am I supposed to do that? This whole gig is pressurised Jen you know that.’

‘I know,’ she said neutrally.  She held his eye and a silent conversation passed between them, one that centred on the show and being written out of it for the good of his health. A few seconds passed and then he shook his head slightly and looked away.

‘I just need a bit of rest….’ He said weakly. For the first time since getting to the cottage she noticed how gaunt he appeared, how dark the shadows were on his face. Hospital food aside he’d been through a lot in the past week and it was telling now.

‘You’re right. But several weeks of rest not just a few days and then back to work,’ Jenna corrected. ‘Proper rest, proper rehab, medicine…’

He rolled his eyes, ‘Yes, yes, all of that. But right now Jenna….’

She looked at him questioningly and then the penny dropped. ‘You need rest now, yes of course you do, you’re exhausted and you’ve had me crying on your shoulder.’

‘My shoulder is always available but… yes… I…’ he ran one hand self consciously through his hair. ‘I’ve got into this habit mid afternoon.’

‘You need putting down for a nap you mean?’ Jenna asked.

‘Oh thanks a lot. You make me sound like a toddler.’

‘Better than an OAP,’ she said as she stood. ‘Come on I’ll show you upstairs,’ Jenna held her hand out and looked down at him. He was looking at her with faintest trace of hurt in his eyes, just for a second, before he took her offered hand and stood. ‘You ok?’ she asked.

He didn’t look at her as he answered but instead let go her hand and made his way to the bottom of the stairs.

‘Less of the OAP jokes if you don’t mind…. Bit sensitive about that…’

‘Oh Peter, please… don’t worry, you’re not an OAP, its just a joke, you couldn’t be further from that.’

‘Oh but it does have some accuracies,’ he said climbing the first few steps. ‘Don’t try and kid me it doesn’t. I’m hurtling towards sixty, I’m on about ten different medicines that make me feel ill and I’ve just been brought back from the dead to live with a nifty heart condition. If I’m not technically a pensioner I’m beginning to feel like one.’

‘Even so…’

‘Even so,’ he cut in a few more steps up, ‘let’s just keep the references to a minimum for now.’ Jenna watched as he climbed further up the stairs. She felt a little stung but at the same time she’d never really heard Peter speak like that. He was the world’s most easy going man, so for him to react that way he must be feeling pretty vulnerable. She could see she would have to tread more carefully than usual, her usually robust friend was more fragile than usual physically and mentally.

Jenna followed him up the stairs at a distance and found him about three from the top leaning against the bannister on the wall side. He was gripping it hard with both hands and breathing hard.

‘I’m sorry,’ Jenna said, 'I’m not meaning to be insensitive.’

‘I know… I know… I’m just not quite myself yet… it’s all a bit…’ he breathed deeply and wiped his forehead.

‘You ok?’ Jenna asked, alarmed.

‘Out of breath, no pains… don’t worry…. Just… stairs….’

‘Wow, I didn’t realise.’

‘It gets better… apparently… gentle exercise daily, take my meds…. Soon I will… be master of the stairs.’

Jenna took one of his hands as he recovered slowly and guided him the rest of the way to the master bedroom where he sat down heavily on the end of the bed. He spent several minutes catching his breath  again before leaning back and taking in his surroundings. Jenna perched next to him.

‘So the bathroom is next door, and the door opposite,' she pointed to a wooden door opposite the bed, 'it leads to my room. It’s an old stablehands' cottage so the layout's a bit weird and through there was just going to be me here so I hope you don’t mind, I might have to wander through at 3am to pee.’

Peter laughed, ‘Well just make sure you’re dressed and you give me warning or I could end up having another heart attack.’

‘Thanks a lot! Are you insinuating I look terrible without my pyjamas on?’

‘Quite the opposite,’ he said, deadpan. Jenna caught his eye and a shot of something went right through her. It must have done something similar for him because he blushed slightly and dropped his head. He looked like he wanted the floor to open up.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to… just ignore me,’ he said, ‘I seem to have lost my filter a bit.’

‘You’re probably just tired,’ she said.

‘Apparently people do lose their filter permanently after this,’ he said in wonder. ‘Must be awkward.’

‘Very,’ she replied and sat looking at her fingernails for a moment. ‘Ok so um, why don’t you get a nap now, and I’ll go back downstairs and chop some veg for later… or something…’

He looked at her curiously. ‘Chop some veg for… oh god you’re doing the diet book thing the cardiac nurse gave us.’

‘Yes I am,’ Jenna said, standing, ‘Got to lower your cholesterol and get you fit.’

‘Good luck with that.’

‘Peter you know hat they said, you’re fit and healthy and you’ve had the angioplasty. If you do the lifestyle stuff and take the pills you’re going to be ok. You’ve said so yourself.’

‘So have you but neither of us really believe it,’ he smiled sadly.

‘We’re both scared then, but its only day one of being home so we’re bound to be, we’ll get there. Now go to sleep.’

Peter looked over his shoulder at the bed as though deciding if it looked tempting enough, and then bent to untie his laces. Jenna had reached the door when she saw him sitting straight again holding his chest. He caught her looking.

‘Bruising,’ he said, I’m pressing on it when I lean over.’

‘Come here,’ she knelt in front of him and set about removing his shoes.

‘You’re going to get so bored of this,’ he said

‘Don’t be daft,’

‘It’s not your job to fuss over me, make me dinner… take my shoes off.’

‘I don’t mind.’

‘I’m just saying you don’t have to.’

Jenna finished her task and sat back on her heels looking up at him. A large part of her wanted to hide away in the cottage with Peter as long as possible but what he had said had reminded her it wasn’t her place as much as she was grateful for taking it up temporarily. She didn’t want to ask but she knew she probably should, so she took a deep breath and went for it. Maybe if she asked now they could gloss over it, maybe he would reassure her that everything was ok and they could still play happy families in the cottage until Christmas.

She hated herself for making naive wishes like a child.

‘Now you’re here and a bit better,’ she said shakily, ‘Are you… will you call Elaine? She needs to know what’s happened even if she doesn’t come down?’ There she’d said it, she’d acknowledged his wife should be involved here.

Peter tensed. The look on his face scared her. She watched a  transformation from slightly sleepy and relaxed to a deep rooted frustration, an irritation he was barely controlling.

‘Jenna I told you, just leave it.’

‘Peter what on earth has happened? You two were solid.’

‘Not always, not in the last few years, you don’t know.’

‘Not in how many years?’ she pushed. ‘One, two?’

‘Around four, maybe a bit longer,’ he squeezed out, ‘it started then and it just got worse and worse. Jenna I don’t want to talk about this, especially now.’

But she couldn’t stop, there was something about his expression, an inner turmoil which shouted out to her. His voice pushed her away, saying he didn’t want to talk, but his body language pleaded with her.

‘What started?’ Jenna asked determined to get to the bottom of this. Above everything she cared for him, she hated to see him like this. Her own feelings for Peter would always have to take second place to his marriage, she knew that, in fact she wondered if that was why she had developed feelings. He was untouchable and safe, she could feel whatever she wanted and not have to deal with the reality of a relationship. But the last thing she wanted to see was Peter unhappy, so he needed to tell her what was going on.

He looked at her sharply and there was real torment in his features, that push me pull you of needs that she could seeing playing out. He wanted to tell her, he’d promised somewhere along the line he wouldn’t. ‘Jenna, please can we just…’

‘No! Listen. You are making yourself ill. Working too hard, doing too much… and probably this, your marriage is a huge part of who you are. If something is wrong we need to address that best we can to try and heal things.’

That did it. Something in him snapped and he began giggling to himself horribly. It was a painful sound. Dry and humourless, lacking his customary joy.

 ‘What?’ she asked, slightly afraid.

‘It’s just… it’s ironic coming from you,’ he said mirthlessly, pain obvious in his body language, physical and emotional alike. ‘You want to help heal things in my marriage?’

‘Yes!’

He looked up at her desperately, ‘Jenna you’re the reason my marriage needs healing.’


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenna and Peter have a serious conversation about feelings. But Jenna is keeping something back.

Jenna stared at him from her place kneeling on the floor, a curious defensive feeling coming over her. If Peter’s marriage was having difficulties it had nothing to do with her, she had never interfered, never even thought to interfere despite her recent feelings. She wouldn’t, she wasn’t that type of woman, she had respect. What on earth was he thinking? She pushed herself up from her knees defiantly.

‘What? No! How can you say that? I haven’t done anything; to you, or your marriage!’

‘Jenna…’ he sighed tiredly.

‘No! You are not going to throw that at me without explanation… without apology.’ She was furious, blood pumping through her body so hard and fast she shook. She felt her face flush and her eyes grow wet. Why was this affecting her so badly? She hadn’t even heard the reasons behind what Peter had said, instead her emotions had spun off in all directions, raging protectively. This was not her doing. It wasn’t.

‘Jenna please,’ he held up his hands, ‘Please don’t be angry, none of it is your fault, none…’

‘So why did you say it was?’ she spat. ‘You said!’

‘I didn’t,’ Peter countered, moving to one side on the bed to make space for her, ‘I said you were the reason my marriage needs help. That doesn’t mean you’ve actively interfered with it, attempted to have some seedy affair with me or whatever… you’re not a homewrecker or anything like it.’

Jenna’s heart did a little hop at the word affair, at the image it produced in her mind. ‘No of course not, you’re married and well, you and I, we’re…’

‘We’ve been friends a long time,’ he concluded relieving her of the burden. ‘But we aren’t lovers…’

‘Of course not!’ she stood before him awkwardly, ‘That’s a ridiculous idea.’

‘Yes,’ he said more quietly. ‘Jenna please sit down. I didn’t mean for this conversation to ever even happen but now it has started I want to make sure the air is clear and you know what’s going on between Elaine and I.’

Jenna hovered a moment longer then sat by him. She tried to calm down but only succeeded into switching from angry to nervous.

‘Does Elaine think we’re…. I don’t know, having a fling or something?’ she pulled a face. ‘She wouldn’t think that would she? That’s just silly.’

Peter looked down at his hands, slowly rubbing his fingers as though they were causing him pain. He stopped when he came to his wedding ring and spun it clockwise-anticlockwise.

‘Elaine just thought we were friends.’

‘Right!’ she sighed with relief. Of course a mature woman like Elaine could tell the difference between romance and friendship.

‘Didn’t matter how much time we spent together, how many events, photoshoots, interviews we did, you and I were colleagues. Just like hundreds of colleagues I’ve worked with before now. She had no issues. In fact she encouraged me to enjoy the world tour, the conventions.’

Jenna frowned. ‘So I’m missing something. If we’re just colleagues….?’

Peter looked up and straight ahead of him avoiding her eyes. ‘Yeah well that’s the thing isn’t it, we’re not colleagues now.’

‘No… we’re friends… I’m still not seeing the issue.’

‘Jenna, Elaine isn’t a stupid woman,’ he said, ‘She has eyes like a hawk, a real director’s eye, she picks up on subtleties long before me. She knows me inside out, better than I know myself.’

‘What subtleties?’ Jenna asked, frustrated by the vague reasoning.

‘Well actually they weren’t very subtle,’ he admitted to himself as much as her. Finally he looked at her. ‘It’s all my fault,’ he said, ‘I must have been mooning over you forever, at least since we met, Elaine probably noticed from the start and it all came to a head a few weeks ago.’

Jenna laughed with relief, ‘Oh for God’s sake. I think Elaine can cope with you having what… a silly crush?’ She shoved him playfully on the shoulder. ‘Is that what this is about? Peter I’m sorry things aren’t so great with you and Elaine but I don’t think you can honestly say I’ve anything to do with it. We’re not making eyes at each other, if Elaine thinks that she’s mistaken, eyes like a hawk or not…’

She stopped and looked at him, found him blushing and looking uncomfortable.

‘It’s not a silly crush,’ he said with a tone that meant he was completely serious and as defensive as she had been at the start. Jenna frowned.

‘You… you think of me like…. _That_?’ she asked askance. The thought seemed impossible. Peter didn’t, _couldn’t_ think of her that way. Could he? Inside her stomach had gone back to doing somersaults and she tried to squash the feelings she had discovered for him at the hospital. They were born of fear and worry, whatever he was talking about had come from familiarity, long days together, flirty banter. It had no substance, she mustn’t hope, she had to get him to see sense. He’d been married over twenty five years, he couldn’t throw that away because of some confused feelings for an old co-star.

Jenna ignored temptation to let him do just that. A tiny wicked little voice in her head that she silenced quickly. He was her friend first and foremost, she would not use this to her advantage.

 Peter was still chewing over his confession.

‘Would that be wrong of me, to see you that way?’ he asked directly, beginning to reveal just how confused those feelings were. ‘I suppose it would be. I’m twice your age for starters. I didn’t realise it was even happening, it crept up on me over years…. And most of the time its fine, I mean you and I…. that’s impossible…. So I don’t even think of it…’

‘Wait, wait, slow down,’ Jenna said adjusting her position on the edge of the bed, ‘You have feelings for me, that crept up…but most of the time you ignore it?’

‘Well yes, you’ve got your life, your on off boyfriend, your future… it’s not my place to be thinking of you like that. I have a _wife_.’

‘Yes you do,’ Jenna agreed with the absolute reality of this fact. And it was his wife who was causing him worry and concern now. ‘Tell me about her, what’s happened? Did she think we were, I don’t know, getting it on in Wales every week?’

He snorted, ‘No of course not, she trusted me. I’ve never cheated and you and I were too worn out at the end of a working day to even consider it. I’m far too old for sex, things have been….’ He hesitated, ‘Well slower in that department,’ he avoided her eyes, ‘Sorry, too much information, but what I mean is I could spend week after week here with you and it wouldn’t occur to her I’d do anything. I mean I haven’t… done anything. I wouldn’t.’

She was feeling more confused than ever. ‘Do you want to?’ Jenna asked before she realised. She bit her lip a second too late to stop the words coming out. He caught her eye briefly then blushed deeply again, allowed that nervous tic to bother him as he fiddled with his hair, brushing it back and forward with one hand.

‘No!’ he exclaimed, ‘I mean…. I’m not objectifying you when we meet,’ he explained.

‘So you do?’ she asked.

‘I… Jenna… its complex. The feelings I have…’

‘In theory?’

He raised his eyes suddenly and looked straight at her. ‘In theory, yes,’ he admitted. ‘But while we were working it was different,’ he said, ‘There was this great romance wrapped around us, these beautiful scenes and lines. It was an outlet, I think, for any… desire…. And then it was over.’

Jenna waited as he paused, chewed his lip again.

‘I went home, I did a few signings, spent some time doing charity stuff and living with my family full time again. I had been waiting for that all year. To be back with them, to just be myself for a bit.’

‘So what happened?’

‘I missed you,’ he said, ‘More than I remembered doing in previous years. More than I meant to. I was irritable, listless… sitting about drawing or playing guitar like a lovesick teen. I wasn’t myself as planned. It was pathetic. Now that we were apart I wanted you more than ever.’

Jenna’s lips quirked despite herself at the image of Peter mooning around his house.

‘Elaine noticed something then?’ she asked.

‘She came right out with it. Was I in love with you? I denied it of course, I mean I haven’t done anything. But the fact I feel something… that’s never happened before. I’ve never even looked at another woman never mind…’

‘Never mind?’

He took a steadying breath and fixed his gaze on the carpet.

‘Never mind fall in love with one,’ he said softly. Jenna’s eyes widened at his confession.

‘Peter… no… that’s… that’s not possible…’

‘Apparently it is,’ he said tightly. ‘I know what I feel.’

‘No, things are just emotional and raw, you’ve not been well, this is nothing. You’re a sweet, romantic man, but you’re not in love!’ Jenna’s voice rose in panic, the last thing she wanted was Peter making decisions based on feelings for her. ‘You need to contact Elaine, she’d be here in a flash, she’d be frantic whether or not she thinks you’ve been crushing on me…’

‘For the last time Jenna this isn’t a passing infatuation!’ he snapped. ‘And Elaine doesn’t think so either. She’s seen the evidence… heard it anyway.’

‘What evidence?

Peter sighed. ‘I convinced her it was just something silly, that I’d get over it, that it couldn’t be anything serious… just as you suggest… and Elaine, sensible woman, agreed. We went to bed, made love for the first time in an age, in years actually… slept and… and…’ he exhaled sharply. ‘And I called her by your name more than once.’

‘What?’

‘When we were….’ He trailed off, ‘And then later… in my sleep. In my _sleep,_ Jenna.’

She swallowed at the picture he portrayed and how Elaine must have felt. She might well be sensible, forgiving, supportive… but it would still hurt like hell. To say another woman’s name during sex was one, awful, thing; to say it unconsciously from the inner world of your sweetest dreams, that stung.

‘Things hadn’t been brilliant for a while,’ Peter was saying, ‘Nothing huge but lots and lots of niggles. Years of growing apart. Great friends, always, but separate lives under the same roof. Underneath though we are both hurting and that was the final straw for her. She packed a bag and went to stay with her sick cousin. She’d intended to care for her anyway but she’s gone for a bit longer this time. She’s not calling for divorce but she is calling for a rethink.  She’ll come back when she’s ready and talk, but I have to give her space if I want to repair things. Heart attack or not.’

Jenna sat quietly for a minute, head whirling.

‘Space,’ she said, ‘OK I can understand that.’

‘I don’t want this to make things awkward between us,’ Peter said, ‘I know you don’t feel the same and don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I adore you Jenna but I’m old enough to know what I can and can’t have. I don’t want to lose your friendship.’

‘I’m fine,’ Jenna said convincingly. ’You have stuff to work through, a marriage to save, and I’m always going to be your friend and help as much as I can. I don’t feel weird I promise.’

He visibly relaxed, covered his face with his hands and sat forward in an exhausted, defeated posture.

Such a lie, Jenna had told. Such a huge lie. She felt very weird. It _was_ very weird to see that look in his eyes, that affection she’d always thought of as just friendship. She’d seen so many photographs of them together, that look shared between them, and never questioned it, but now she knew. It worked both ways. They felt the same and that feeling wasn’t a crush or a fancy, it wasn’t a bit of fun and games.

Jenna loved Peter, but he didn’t, couldn’t know. He had a marriage to repair.

But Jenna loved Peter, and it hurt to say it but, she was pretty sure he loved her back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's recovery begins

‘You need to eat,’ Jenna placed the plate on the table by Peter. ‘Come on its not that bad, it’s almost like butter, just healthier, you know... for your heart.’

He didn’t move, his eyes covered by one hand, leaning on the arm of the sofa. ‘I’m not hungry.’

‘You must be, its gone dark out there, you’ve had nothing all day, hardly anything last night. Come on its just a piece of toast. Just one bit? Please?’

‘Jenna stop talking to me like I’m a child,’ he said from behind the shield of his hand.

‘Stop acting like one and eat,’ she grumbled and slumped down next to him.

‘You try eating on top of half a dozen heart medications.’

She stared at him side on, ‘You wouldn’t feel sick if you ate before you took them. Like the doctors said. You’re just being…. Petulant.’ She stared off towards the window.

Silence. Jenna picked at her skirt and tried to work out what to say and do. After his confession last night that he had feelings for her she had been completely topsy turvy. She didn’t know what to think or do about her own burgeoning feelings for him, let alone how to respond to what he needed now he was ill. He said he didn’t want to make things awkward or change things between them. She wasn’t sure that was possible.

Peter had gone to bed early and swore it wasn’t because he felt awkward. He was just out of hospital, exhausted, so he turned in at nine and stayed there until well into the morning. She’d tiptoed past him from her bunkbed room at half past eight, the grey light of winter shining through the bedroom window and landing across his sleeping features. He looked tense even asleep, his frown deep and furrowed. She wished she could smooth it and had hesitated, wondering if she should lie down with him and wait until he woke. The Jenna of last week probably would have, thinking it was innocent, thinking he wouldn’t read anything into it. Perhaps he still wouldn’t but she was aware things had altered. As much as he didn’t want them to, they had.

She got herself breakfast and sat staring into her coffee until it went cold. No sign of Peter. Jenna grew increasingly concerned until at last she had given up trying to read downstairs and gone to investigate. He was awake by now but unoccupied; curled on his side as he had been sleeping. The only difference was that his eyes were open, a hand rested on the pillow. He glanced at her when she came in.

‘You ok?’ she had asked.

‘Fine.’

‘Need anything? Cup of tea…’ she started.

‘Not supposed to be caffeinated any more,’ he said flatly. ‘No tea, no coffee….’

‘I have decaff,’ she offered brightly. He rolled his eyes.

‘That’s not the point.’

Eventually he did get up, and when he did, it scared her. She’d been watching some mindless pre Christmas family film with her mind in another place entirely when she heard him on the stairs. Unsure how to handle things, whether or not to offer help she waited. She could hear him pausing and now and then a pant of breath. The hospital physio had declared him fit after climbing ad descending threes steps not a whole steep flight in an ancient cottage. It was really taking it out of him and it shocked her. Jenna kept her eyes firmly on the TV when he made it to the bottom and paused again.

‘Come sit,’ she said patting the seat by her, ‘Rubbish Christmas films to see. Elves have commercialised the workshops in Lapland.’

He slid into the sofa and had barely moved since.

Jenna leaned over him and took his toast, it would only go cold otherwise and she was peckish. The movement made him stir and lower his hand from his face and she realised he had been asleep again.

‘You’re still wiped aren’t you?’ she said suddenly feeling a little guilty for snapping at him for not eating.

‘Yeah,’ he breathed, ‘Apparently that takes time to get better.’

‘You’ve only been home a day,’ she rubbed his arm, ‘Don’t rush things. Please, just get well.’

‘I hate this,’ he said, eyes on the screen as Santa’s Elves sang about rushing their toy making to meet deadlines.

‘The film?’

‘No… this… being incapacitated. Being…. An invalid, being _old_ ,’ he said bitterly.

Jenna looked at him sympathetically, ‘You aren’t old, Peter.’

‘I feel it. I feel like its crept up and bitten me. I was in my thirties five minutes ago. My body’s let me down… how can I ever trust it again?’

He looked at her suddenly and she faltered, toast half way to her mouth. ‘I.. Peter your body fought to come back, there’s every reason you should trust it, it didn’t give up.’

‘The Doctors brought me back, Jen, my body _had_ given up the ghost.’

‘But…’

‘My _heart_ …’ he emphasised, ‘The single most vital organ and it stopped. I thought I was fit and well. I went to the gym. I never thought this could happen. How do I move past that? I’m going to be having panic attacks every time it speeds up… skips a beat, whatever.’

She suddenly realised what he was saying. What he was trying to be relatively brave and matter of fact about, but failing. She put the toast down half eaten and placed the plate on the floor. Peter raised his eyebrows questioningly and Jenna twisted to face him.

‘Peter its ok to feel like this, the Cardiac nurse said….’

He huffed and let his head drop back against the couch. ‘The cardiac nurse,’ he said, ‘knows fuck all.’

‘Peter! he was a lovely man, really informative. He said…’

‘I don’t care what he said,’ Peter groused.

Jenna sighed, ‘You should because right now he couldn’t have been more accurate. Mood swings, depression, feelings of inadequacy and fear…’

He glared at her, ‘Stop it.’

‘No I won’t stop it until you at least open a dialogue with me.’

‘Open a dialogue? Have you been eating the self help leaflets they had on that ward? ‘How to Support Your Until Recently Quite Cool But Now Past It Friend?’’

‘Peter for God’s sake. You aren’t old, or past it, or any of these things… you’re scared,’ she finished abruptly, harshly even.

He stopped mid protest and she saw his jaw twitch. He wouldn’t look at her.

‘You are scared,’ she said more gently, reaching for his hand tentatively. She wrapped her fingers around his but of course her hand had always been too small to really get a good grip. It was always his hand that enclosed hers. She waited, and then waited a little more before his fingers swapped places with hers and he rubbed her knuckles with his thumb.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘You’re right, I’m scared. I’m really scared.’

‘It’s only natura….’

‘Please don’t tell me what the cardiac nurse said,’ he cut her off, ‘He was a nice bloke but…he’s not been brought back from the dead. It’s kind of different when you experience it yourself.’

Jenna smiled tightly, ‘Ok…I guess it would be. Do you want to talk?’

He shook his head and leaned on the arm of the couch again, turning his head from her and looking away. She felt him tighten his grip on her hand. They sat quietly for a moment.

‘Maybe later, or tomorrow?’ Jenna said, ‘Whenever you need to. Just say,’ he nodded in response. ‘In the meantime we can do whatever you like, whatever you feel up to. Or if you want to rest, you can do that. No pressure.’

‘Thanks,’ he said roughly, his defences lessening.

Jenna watched him carefully. ‘Is there something you’d like? Something that would help? When I get sick I do the duvet on the sofa thing and eat sweets.’

He snorted, ‘You are actually a child though, Jenna. You’re tiny and you like cartoons.’

‘Well that’s as maybe but it doesn’t mean you can’t do duvet days too. I’d keep you company. Come on what did you do when you were a kid and you were ill?’ she smiled enthusiastically. He loved talking about his family.

Peter smiled sadly and looked down at the arm of the couch. He picked at it restlessly.

‘We had a café so there was no shortage of sweets and ice-cream for poorly wee lads.’

‘I have some ice-cream in the freezer?’

She watched him work hard to hold something back, watched a tremor pass through his jaw as he clamped down on the emotion. He shut his eyes, tight.

‘Peter?’

He squeezed her hand again and then let go abruptly, facing away from her again. The sight of him went straight to her own heart. He looked so vulnerable, exhausted and ill, away from his wife and family, wondering what the future would bring.

‘Please talk to me,’ she said gently and moved closer. She wanted to put her arms round him but the angle wasn’t right and he seemed to be deliberately keeping her at bay.

‘It’s nothing,’ he said, ‘I’m just worn out. Really. That’s all.’

‘For a talented actor you don’t sound convincing,’ she said kindly. He let out a strained laugh.

‘I don’t even convince myself,’ he said. He took a deep breath and looked skyward. At last she could see what she suspected, his eyes were wet and he was struggling to keep himself together. She scooted yet closer.

‘Am I allowed to hug you yet?’ she asked.

‘I am pathetic.’

‘No…’

‘I am. I’m so frightened. This came from nowhere. I was fine last week, working, running. I could eat whatever I liked and do whatever I wanted to do and now…. Now I can’t get up the stairs in one go. I can’t eat because I’m on so many drugs I feel permanently sick. I want to sleep all the time but I’m terrified I won’t wake up. What else can’t I manage? Will I get back to the show? Will I ever be able to have a cup of normal coffee, eat something that actually tastes of something half decent, go for a walk, make love?’

‘Peter of course you will, you’ll do all of those things.’

‘I’m not so sure now,’ he said, ‘It just feels like everything is slipping away from me. I was living the dream and now I’ll probably lose my wife, my job…. My health… I do want a duvet day Jenna, I want to pull the duvet over my head and pretend this isn’t happening.’

‘You’re allowed to do that for a while,’ Jenna reassured, ‘You need recovery tie, adjustment time…’

He looked away from her again and chewed on his thumb. He was so pale, his features so weighed down by sadness.

‘I want my mum,’ he said so quietly Jenna almost missed it. She tilted her head to hear and he looked down at the floor.

‘What?’ she asked carefully.

‘I miss her… and I’m scared and I know it’s ridiculous because I’m not exactly a kid anymore but… I just wish she was here.’

Jenna felt her eyes well up at the sight of him, frail and afraid of the future; of what he had almost lost and what he might still.

‘Everyone wants their mum when they are sick,’ Jenna said and watched him blush with shame. ‘I’m a poor substitute I bet but I’m here for you. I’ll even try to make soup or broth or whatever you Scottish people call it.’

Peter tried to smile at that but he was wobbly.

‘Come here,’ Jenna said. ‘It’s going to be OK, you’ll see, you and me over the next few weeks, we’ll fix you.’

She opened her arms and encouraged him closer, watching him glance at her uncertainly and then twist around so that he faced her. Soon she had him tight against her, his face in the crook of her neck and his heart tapping against her own.

‘Feel that?’ she whispered, ‘We’re in sync.’


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter makes inroads into recovery but is he pushing himself too hard? And can Jenna cope alone with her feelings for him?

Things had improved between them after their conversation; after that hug. Jenna felt some of Peter’s guards drop and realised for the first time just how many there were. There were so many still in place. Had it always been like that? She didn’t remember it so, he’d never felt closed off or secretive when they had worked together, he’d been warm and open, relaxed, flirtatious. The more she thought about it the more she worried, for her and for him. She’d been oblivious to his feelings all that time.

What if she had known? What if she had taken the time to realise he loved her? Would it have led to her revealing her own feelings, to discovering them deep inside of her? Or had things taken this long for a reason? Would she just have rejected him outright, her older, kooky co-star and nothing more, while she dated Richard and led a younger lifestyle.

Not that she was old now, but she was definitely more mature. Her needs were different. Public life had done that to her, success came at a price and privacy was a rare treasure. Hence the cottage. Now there was oodles of privacy and just the two of them. There was a tension, a pleasant one but daunting. They spent all day with one another now, alone and undistracted and Peter was weaker, more vulnerable, less sharp than usual as he recovered. He’d let slip, his hearts secret desire, but she couldn’t. What would happen if she told him she felt the same?

How would Peter have reacted if she’d told him she loved him back when she was still on the show? Would she have realised what it was she felt? And how would he cope if she rejected him years ago? It was more likely she thought. Would their friendship survive it? Maybe he knew the answer to that and kept quiet for those reasons. Maybe it was about his marriage. Either way he had been determined not to tell.

Jenna’s mind was a constant rotation of what ifs and buts and noise. She tried to keep herself as busy as possible but the cottage was designed for people to relax in with little to do, so it was difficult, especially when her friend was incapacitated. He apologised a lot, guilt all over his face and a certain amount of self loathing. He kept telling her she could leave, do something fun, but she wouldn’t hear it. So for the last few days he had been impossibly cheerful and upbeat, she thought in order to compensate and protect her from the utter boredom of caring for him. She sighed. It wasn’t a chore, OK it was a bit cabin-fever at times but he didn’t need to pretend he was ok.

Just stop pretending. Just let me see.

She was finishing off the washing up from lunch when she heard him come into the kitchen area, the sound of shoes on carpet changing to shoes on hard floor. He was up and about a lot more now, managing some kind of activity level and persistently pushing his boundaries to harder longer spells. She wasn’t entirely sure that was a good thing but he did it anyway and she couldn’t physically stop him. Stairs were not so much of an issue now. He only had to stop once on the way up. On the flat however he did quite well and sometimes she forgot, just for a moment, what the last couple of weeks had been like and why. And then she’d see him flinch, or run out of breath and tell him sharply he had to rest. Jenna rinsed off her hands and turned to him with a towel, drying her individual fingers.

He was wearing his coat and scarf and looking sheepish.

She frowned ‘What are you doing?’ she challenged.

‘It’s a nice day…’ he said by means of an explanation and looked out the window. Jenna cocked her head and followed his gaze. It was beautiful she had to admit. Pale winter sun, a smattering of snow, frost melting and hanging in drops from the trees around the cottage; sparkling like diamonds.

‘Ok, I agree it’s a nice day,’ she admitted dumping the towel and leaning against the counter. ‘But what’s with the coat? Its freezing out there, you’re not going out in that cold.’

Peter rolled his eyes and she imagined did a very good impression of himself as a fifteen-year-old. ‘Oh Jenna I’ll be fine. I can’t stay indoors forever. A walk would do me good. Nothing too strenuous… please… don’t make me beg… just a stroll.’

He looked at her pleadingly and she averted her eyes. He could be very persuasive when he wanted to be.

‘Please?’ he said again and closed the gap between them. He put his hands on her upper arms and looked down at her and eventually she couldn’t resist but to look up. She made a frustrated noise.

‘I’m trying to look after you!’ she argued.

‘And you are, very well, it’s probably the only reason I feel well enough to go out,’ he said charmingly. This time Jenna rolled her eyes. ‘But I’ve been cooped up here all week and before that the hospital and I think I’m going a bit insane.’

She chuckled, ‘Yeah so am I… wait… sorry… I don’t mean that, it’s not your fault, it’s just…’

‘Jenna it’s fine we have a bout of Tiny Welsh Cottage Fever. Let’s go out,’ He slipped one hand down to take hers and nodded towards the door with a slightly manic expression which made her dissolve. He looked like an over excited German shepherd, all wild eyes and tongue practically hanging out.

‘Ok, ok I’ll get my coat but you just make sure you have layers…’ she said.

Jenna started putting her boots on.

‘Layers? me?’ he said behind her, ‘Jenna I am king of layers, we know this. I have about six on and a scarf, I could go to the arctic like this and survive. I’m going to be perfectly fine.’

 

It was the strangest walk, Jenna thought as she got ready for bed, neatly folding her clothes and laying them on the bottom bunk. She liked to sleep in the top one, always had as a kid and probably always would if presented with such an opportunity. She climbed the ladder and got under the covers, pulling them tight over her.

She heard Peter cough next door.

‘You ok?’ she called.

‘Yes!’ he answered, ‘For heaven’s sake….’

‘Ok just asking,’ she settled back trying to decipher the tone of his voice. It had been a tricky evening and she still didn’t know exactly where they stood with one another. The crack of light under her door vanished and she knew he was snuggling down for the night. In the mornings she would find him huddled under the duvet, luxuriating in warmth, fast asleep with a glow to his cheeks. He was definitely improving, that greyness, those dark circles, they were things of the past. But what was he thinking?

Jenna thought again of the walk. Of how silent the place was as they made their way through the woodlands. Just the two of them, gloved hands in pockets, scarfs and hats, their breath coming in icy puffs. He had done well and he seemed so happy to be outside. They had come to a clearing a few hundred yards away, and sat on a battered looking bench after Jenna wiped away the snow.

‘Don’t get cold,’ she warned.

‘I won’t,’ Peter said tiredly, batting away her concerns yet again.

‘Better not,’ she said, ‘You’re doing good, I’m impressed.’

‘We’ve only come quarter of a mile. If that.’

‘You were dead remember. You’ve come on leaps and bounds.’

‘Jenna _please_ stop telling me I was dead…’

‘But you were. It was serious! You need reminding of it, for motivation.’

‘Believe me I don’t,’ Peter grumbled.

‘You don’t take half of this seriously,’ Jenna observed. ‘You make too many jokes; you play stuff down. The other day I know you were in pain but you just grit your teeth and denied it. I’m worried about you. I was reading on this forum about how men do just that; pretend it’s all fine after a shock or a heart attack. You need to be more open about it, you need to _… connect_ to what’s happened. Like the nurse said, understand and accept the reality of what took happened and use that to make changes, look forward; but first _connect_.’

Peter turned his head and looked at her.

‘I need to… _connect_ to what happened?’ he queried disbelievingly.

‘That evening you told me how scared you were, that was connecting… since then you’ve been in denial.’

‘I am _not_ in denial, I know perfectly well I nearly died. I don’t need reminding and I don’t particularly want to keep thinking about it. Just leave it out,’ he sounded rarely and genuinely irritated.

‘But what he said about the sense of one’s own mortality…’

‘Jenna!’ he snapped, ‘Just shut up. You’re obsessed with this bloody nurse, the forums, the advice lines… whatever. Just stop it. You’ve read too many leaflets! I am dealing with it.’

She picked at the flaky paint on the bench. ‘I just want to help as much as I can. Understand it.’

Peter sighed, ‘Jen, no offense but you’ve barely entered your thirties. There is no way you are going to understand mortality. Not really, not yet. I’m not doing you down and saying you’re not understanding enough. It’s a good thing because trust me, when it hits you, when you lose a parent or you’re seriously ill yourself, you end up carrying that knowledge with you all the time. How short life is, how fragile, and how close you are to losing it, all the time, it’s just a whisper away and then it’s gone.’

Jenna stared at him.

‘See,’ he said quietly, ‘I’m connected. Now let me make my stupid jokes and cope with it best I can.’

He stood up and turned back towards the cottage waiting for her to join him.

‘You don’t want to go a bit further?’ she asked knowing how badly he’d wanted to get out of the house and feeling more than a bit guilty for her naïve advice.

‘Not today.’

He wasn’t angry exactly but he did seem disappointed, in her, she thought. She thought he’d go to bed early, just to have his space, but she cooked dinner and they ate, watched Christmas TV by the fire and the slight tension between them seemed to melt way.

Peter seemed a little down and she felt it strongly. She should have known better. He was a sensitive man; she’d witnessed him upset and frightened a week or so before, she should have understood that would still be beneath the surface. He would be thinking over every aspect of this. What she was frustrated about wasn’t that he wasn’t recognising the significance of his heart attack but that he wasn’t _sharing_ those thoughts with her. She felt excluded.

She never used to feel excluded. Back when they worked together they shared a lot but they both had their private time too. Things they didn’t always discuss, personal things. But now, since his heart attack, since her realisation and his confession she _had_ to know. She felt driven to know. She worried and fretted and demanded to understand. What was he thinking, what did he want, was he ok? She couldn’t bear the idea that he might be keeping things from her. That he might be putting on a show of happiness, of being better, to protect her or because he didn’t want to bother her, or worse didn’t _trust_ her to care, after all he didn’t know how she felt. To him she was a good friend who might well tire of her new role as nurse.

She loved him. She wanted to _know_ what was in his head _._ She wanted to help. She’d do anything for him if he would just indicate what it was he wanted. But he didn’t want anything. So he said. Not a piece of toast, not another cup of tea, not a bath running, not contact with his wife and not any kind of romantic relationship with Jenna despite admitting his feelings.

Would he want it if she told him now? Peter, I love you.

She froze in bed and stared at the ceiling above her, close to her, just a few feet up. She could see cobwebs and marks on the old paint.

Peter had made it clear he was married. He had apologised for his feelings, and she, she had just left it like that despite how hard her heart was beating. He needed to get well, not stressed. She thought she’d accepted that. Handled it. Put her attraction to him to one said to focus on his health.

Maybe she hadn’t done that as well as she’d thought. Maybe it was bothering her more than she realised. Maybe it added to her feeling of exclusion. He said he loved her, why couldn’t he tell her how things were deep down?

Because he didn’t think she’d ever feel the same. He couldn’t open his heart to her like that when she might reject it. It had taken quite a kicking in recent times and she wasn’t about to add to that.

Jenna tossed and turned and went over events in her head again and again. She watched the clock tick around past midnight, one, two. She couldn’t tell him, now was not the time, there might never be a time, but increasingly she wanted to. It was welling up inside her. Just a confession, not an expectation, no pressure to do anything but a chance to say how much she cared. A chance to get him to open up some more of those guards he had around him and help him to heal.

She heard him cough again, and then again after that. She could hear him gasp for air after each paroxysm and then start again. At first it was just a few coughs and then silence for a good while, presumably because he had fallen asleep again. Then, the frequency picked up, hacking painful bouts with little rest in between. Finally the light under the door reappeared after a particularly nasty episode and she heard him groan as it stopped and he got his breath back.

Jenna slipped down off her bunk and opened the door a crack.

‘Can I come in?’ she asked, ‘Are you ok?’

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘and yes,’ he coughed again.

Jenna padded in and sat on the end of his bed. He was sitting up now, having propped himself against the pillows. The yellow light of the lamp by his side made him look particularly gaunt. He was sweating, flushed and holding his ribs painfully.

‘You are so not ok,’ Jenna said.

‘Ok that was a generous description, I have a cough.’ He demonstrated it again and then collapsed back against the pillows.

‘You have a chest infection more like, it sounds awful!’

‘Thank you Doctor Jenna.’

She leaned forward and placed a hand on his forehead, clammy and hot, it was clear his temperature was high.

‘I knew you’d over do it,’ she grumbled.

‘What?’

‘The walk in the frozen forests of Wales,’ she said, ‘I knew it was too soon, too much, too cold. You’ve probably got pneumonia.’

‘If I do I will have picked it up before today, from the hospital or something. Probably just waiting to get me. The cardiac nurse warned didn’t he if you’re sitting about doing nothing all the gunk sits in your chest and you get an infection? That’s half the reason I wanted to go for the walk, I’m too inert here’

Jenna raised her eyebrows at him.

‘I do listen to the man,’ Peter said between coughs, ‘I just don’t regard him as the demi-god you do,’ he managed to wink and then hacked a few times between regular breaths.

‘You’re feverish,’ Jenna said.

‘Yes.’

‘You need fluids.’

He chuckled and started another bout of coughing. ‘Yes, nurse, a doctor a minute ago and now you’re being matron.’

‘Well you’re a Doctor so I suppose that’s appropriate.’

‘Careful you’ll have us playing Doctors and Nurses soon,’ he said and then realised the innuendo. Jenna giggled at his mortified expression.

‘It’s ok,’ she reassured, ‘you are in no fit state to do that right now.’

‘Right now?’

She felt her own mortification but he was coughing again and she didn’t have to answer his query.

‘I’m going to get you something to drink and maybe some ice, you’re boiling. Do you want anything else?’

She waited until he stopped coughing and was leaning forward painfully. His ribs were still so horribly bruised that he had to be in agony by now.

‘Painkillers?’ she hazarded and watched him nod. He had his eyes squeezed shut against the pain.

‘Painkillers he repeated after a moment, and if there is one, a hot water bottle.’

‘Gotcha,’

Jenna trotted down to the kitchen and filled a jug with fruit juice and ice. She made two cups of tea in case he wanted one and then hunted for a hot water bottle. It was a homely little cottage so it wouldn’t surprise her if there was one, but after turning all the cupboards out she was left disappointed. They did however provide her with some paracetamol so she put everything on a tray and went back upstairs.

Peter was half dozing against the stacked up pillows looking the worse for wear. It was so unfair; he’d been doing so well. Jenna shoved the tea-tray horizontally onto the bedside table and dislodged a box of tissues as she tried to make room for it. The noise of it clattering to the floor woke him.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Go back to sleep.’

‘It’s ok, I’m not properly asleep,’ he tried to get comfortable and failed, Jenna handed him the tablets.

‘Try these, take your temperature down.’ She placed them in his palm and brushed his hand with hers. His skin was so hot but when she looked up at him she noticed how cold he seemed to be feeling. While she had been downstairs he had wrapped the duvet high and tight around him and had a blanket over his shoulders. He was visibly shaking in little bouts.

‘You are really poorly,’ she said. ‘Do you think we should get a doctor? I mean given you’ve only just got out of hospital.’

‘No,’ he said swallowing the pills dry and then accepting the glass of fruit juice.

‘Drink all of it,’ she instructed, ‘And why not?’

‘Because its three am, and because everything feels worse at that time and I’ll probably be fine by morning.’

Jenna frowned, ‘And if you’re not?’

‘I will be.’

‘Peter you’ve been in intensive care, you’ve been…’ she stopped.

‘Dead?’ he asked with a mischievous look.

She snorted, ‘I wasn’t going to say that.’

‘Were too.’

The giggled spread through her and she caught his eye. He was grinning to himself, ‘Admit it you were going to say dead… to encourage me to connect to my chest infection. You are obsessed! Have you got some weird fetish?’ Jenna’s giggles became a full laugh and he smiled a gentler smile which travelled to his eyes.

‘Shut up a minute,’ she said. ‘All I’m saying is you’ve been very ill, wouldn’t it be better to be checked?’

Peter sighed and downed his fruit juice.

‘Fine, ok, in the morning if I feel rotten we will go and find a doctor.’

‘No a doctor will come here, it’s too cold to be out and about with that cough.’

He mock despaired her, ‘Jenna! I’m haggling here! At least let me feel like I have some influence over what we do.’

‘Nope.’

He slumped back again. ‘Ok have it your way. Don’t suppose you found a hot water bottle. I am actually colder than I have ever been and that includes doing rugby at school.’

‘You’re a stick. I can’t imagine you playing rugby.’

‘Neither can I, I spent it in the art block but it didn’t have any heating.’

Jenna laughed, ‘Typical. Bad news though….Afraid there was no hot water bottle.’

‘Oh,’ his face fell a bit, ‘Ok… not to worry.’

‘Did you think it would help your ribs?’ she asked.

Peter adjusted his blankets and again tried to lean comfortably. ‘Probably not,’ he said, ‘I just… I just find them comforting. Something warm to hold. Used to find them already in my bed on cold nights when I was a kid. And of course any sign of illness they were thrust upon you by Nana or whichever caring female was around.’

Jenna tilted her head and looked at him. ‘I’m sorry I don’t have one to thrust upon you.’ She watched him try and settle for a moment, the room growing quiet and drowsy again. The sheen of sweat on his forehead seemed to evaporate slowly but the spasms of shivering continued. He looked miserable. She watched him start to nod off.

‘Hey,’ she said and he slowly, sleepily opened his eyes. ‘Shall I turn this light off, let you sleep?’

He nodded slightly, ‘Yeah, thanks…’

Jenna stood and switched the lamp off, made sure the tray wasn’t about to fall off the table and turned back to her own door.

‘Jenna?’

‘Mmm?’

‘Thank you,’

‘It’s ok, you’re sick, you need a bit of TLC.’

‘I do? I guess so. But I should apologise, I’ve just been a bit… defensive at times. I mean all the jokes and deflections. I know its upset you and I know you’re just trying to help.’

‘Oh believe me I’ve noticed the defensive, but… like you said you have to cope with it the way you best can. It’s been a major trauma, a heart attack that…’

‘Jenna I’ve not really been like this because of the heart attack,’ he admitted.

She turned all the way around back to him, facing the dark bed. ‘What?’ she asked.

‘I mean partly yes, I’ve been trying to avoid the topic of my near death, but there’s another topic I’ve been avoiding and that’s… well… _you_.’

He would have heard her gasp. ‘I… look we don’t need to speak about this…’

‘I’m just aware I dumped that confession on you and we never really got a chance to talk properly,’ he said, ignoring her protest, ‘I was just out of the hospital, I was exhausted and I mesn to speak to you but I didn’t have the stamina. It was so daunting…. But now.… I’m so worried I’m messing us up, that I’ll push you away or…. I don’t know. I’m sorry, its late and I can’t think straight. I don’t know what I’m trying to say or why I’m doing it now. I’m just adding to the problem…’

She could hear absolute confusion and sadness in his voice and it moved her to impulsively comfort him. She couldn’t leave him half asleep, sick and confused in the middle of the night. ‘Move over,’ Jenna said crawling onto the bed. She heard Peter shift over a little.

‘This side is cold,’ he complained, ‘I took ages to warm the bed.’

Jenna tucked her legs under the covers, she could tell he was just speaking to distract from what she was doing. She was making him nervous . ‘Shut up. Put your arm round me.’

‘Jenna I don’t want to pressure you into saying anything, or make you feel weird about us…’

‘Shut up and go to sleep,’ she said snuggling down between the covers and him, her head on his chest. She wrapped an arm around his middle and breathed in his smell.

‘What are you doing?’ he squeaked.

‘Being a hot water bottle.’

There was a confused beat and then he laughed and the she had to back off to let him cough. She kneeled and rubbed his back a little until it passed and then helped him back against the pillows.

‘Sorry,’ he said breathlessly.

‘You don’t need to apologise,’ she said, kneeling in front of him on the bed, ‘You don’t ever need to apologise to me.’ Jenna smoothed his damp hair slightly and then dropped her eyes to meet his in the darkness. She could just see them sparkle with what faint light there was in the room, making it seem as though there was moonlight in his eyes.

‘Jenna,’ he said roughly, wistfully, and she felt his hand slowly brush down her arm to her hand. She took it and squeezed in reassurance.

‘It’s ok,’ she said.

He was watching her, half holding his breath, his lips parted and his features ethereal in the gloom. The warmth of his hand travelled straight to her heart and she couldn’t stop herself any longer.

Jenna leaned forward a little, ‘I don’t even know if I should be saying this,’ she started, ‘But... I have to, I just have to, I’ve tried not to and I’m just driving myself crazy.’

He didn’t take his eyes of her as she tentatively moved closer. He watched her curiously, hopefully in the quiet shadows of the bedroom.

‘Please don’t say no,’ she whispered, and kissed him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the kiss, the fallout.

****

It was a brief tender kiss and after just a second Jenna leaned back again, resting on her heels. She thought she had felt him respond just a little but the overall impression she had was one of him freezing in shock.

‘Sorry,’ she said reflexively, ‘I um…’

‘Why did you do that?’ he asked quietly. There was genuine bewilderment in his voice but no accusation.

Jenna exhaled and tried to think what to say. Why _had_ she done it? She’d been telling herself not to for the last two weeks but tonight she’d just felt compelled. All those feelings and what ifs churning about inside her, and then Peter; worn out, sick Peter looking and feeling miserable.

‘I just wanted to make it all better,’ she concluded out loud.

‘What?’ he asked with a strained laugh. ‘Make all what better?’

‘This, us, you,’ she shrugged. ‘Your confession… my….’ She looked upwards in the darkness and tried to find strength from somewhere.

‘Your what?’ he prompted tensely.

‘ _My_ confession that I haven’t made yet,’ she said and looked back at him. It was too dark to see his reaction properly for which she was very grateful. Silence descended for a few moments and then she felt him lurch across the bed. The lamp came on suddenly and they both sat shielding their eyes and blinking at one another. He was the first to lower his hand, squinting against the well-lit room.

‘ _Your_ confession?’ he said, somehow at liberty to speak louder now there was light. Jenna felt her cheeks burn and her limbs develop numbness from the knee down because of how she was sitting. She moved so that she could sit cross legged on the bed beside him, pins and needles gradually winding their way down to her ankles.

‘My confession about how I feel about you,’ she said, forcing each word out, ‘Similar to yours.’ She began rubbing her legs to hurry the circulation back and to distract her from what she could feel emanating from Peter’s direction.

He was staring at her hard, she could sense it, but when she glanced up she found it difficult to read his expression. Peter was usually fairly transparent once you got to know him, his emotions would flit across his face and animate him constantly. He was always being told he was too expressive by former directors, but now, now he was made of stone. Impassive and seemingly emotionless.

‘Similar to mine?’ he clarified. ‘Jenna I told you I was in love with you,’ he reminded her.

‘I know…’ she said quietly.

‘So now you’re saying the same?’ his voice was level and just the tiniest bit critical. She felt like she was being told off. Didn’t she realise what a silly thing it was to do, to say you were in love?

‘Yes,’ she replied, and the word came out as a whisper. She felt him tense and looked up to find he had shut his eyes and his jaw was clenched. There was a silence that threatened to end her and then he looked back at her with something akin to anger in his face. It shocked her.

‘Jenna you had better not be messing about here. It’s not fair to play with me like that.’

Jenna’s stomach turned over. Did he really think she’d do that?

‘What? No! Peter how can you think that?’ she felt sick suddenly. ‘You can’t really believe I’d say something like that for what… effect?’

‘I don’t know, effect is one option. Or maybe you read another leaflet. Maybe it’s in order to support me through my ‘healing process’ make me feel there’s something to live for. I’ve lost Elaine so why not dangle a carrot in front of me to encourage me on. Perfectly safe thing to do from your perspective, I mean I’m half knackered so wouldn’t be at any risk of me molesting you sexually, all you would have to do is keep promising me things until I was better and then end it...’

Jenna gawped at him, stunned by his outburst. ‘What is wrong with you? You really think I’d do that? Oh my God Peter!’ she got up off the bed and stood over him, ‘That’s sick! I’m your friend, and I do love you whatever you might think, and I would never, ever play with your feelings. Why do you think it’s taken me this long to say anything? I could have just said it that night when you confessed, but I didn’t want to confuse things further, add to your stress. I was putting you and your health first! It was a hard thing to do. I just wanted to tell you and hold you but it wasn’t the time. You needed rest, consistency, not massive moral dilemmas about your marriage and me!’

Peter looked down at the duvet but she saw the line of his jaw relax again. She took a few seconds to collect herself, her muscles shaking with rage and upset.

‘I just….’ He started slowly, ‘I just don’t get it…’

‘Get what?’ she said, her voice clipped.

‘Why?’ he said looking up. ‘I mean look at you. Young, beautiful, so much success this year, funny, kind. You have men throwing themselves at you all over the place, a Prince of the Realm no less, Hollywood stars…’

‘Peter it’s not like that….’

‘It is, you just don’t see it. You’re wonderful and these guys would happily lose their right arm to be here now, to have you say that to them. And instead you’re holed up in your cottage with your broken, grey, wrinkled, ex co-star. Twice your age and half dead.’

She looked at him askance and annoyed. ‘Do you really think that about yourself?’ she asked. ‘You’re an attractive man!’

‘I’m not denying I’ve developed a bit of silver fox in the last ten years and some people like that, but you?’ he shook his head, ‘There are better things out there for you. I know this last couple of weeks has been stressful, frightening even, maybe that’s brought some feelings up that have been powerful. But it’s not love, not that kind of love anyway.’

Jenna felt a little pulse of anger, ‘I think I know my own feelings.’

‘Feelings can trick us. When did you decide you loved me?’ he tested.

‘I didn’t ‘decide,’ she said sharply, ‘I r _ealised_ … when your heart stopped.’

‘See… it was panic and relief when I came round probably.’

‘Peter!’

He leaned fully against the pillows again and sighed. ‘It’s sweet of you, and I really do appreciate you looking after me, but this is dangerous territory, Jenna. We’re going to end up arguing and falling out over all this and that’s the biggest thing I fear.’

‘We will only fall out if we let ourselves. If we just explore this like grown ups… listen to each other. For example don’t tell me I’m not in love with you. Listen to me saying it, watch me show you that it’s true,’ She saw him pick at the covers and look anywhere but her.

‘How long have _you_ loved me?’ Jenna asked. He looked at her again sharply.

‘That’s er…’

‘You said it crept up over years without realising. How long have you actively _loved_ me? Weeks? Months? Since we first ate omelettes together?’ she asked trying to lighten the mood.

Peter smiled. ‘That was a long time ago, and I didn’t dare. I thought you were beautiful, I was a bit blown away by you I must admit. You were so little and perfect and that smile…’ his voice became sad and she frowned. ‘I never went there though, never let myself feel it.’

‘But you were aware of it?’

‘I was in denial. We were friends that’s as far as I would go in my head. I kept repeating it over and over. ‘

‘Are you telling me you could have loved me all this time? If you weren’t sticking your head in the sand?’

Peter wet his lips and swallowed to give himself a moment. ‘I’ve certainly had the potential to,’ he said, ‘I kept trying to resist, I was married and you were way out of my league and I knew if I let my heart wander in that direction I’d end up in trouble. But yes, I suppose, once I met you, there were always some feelings that weren’t strictly friendship. As I said before it was OK when we were still working but it’s all gone a bit wrong since. The feeling just keeps growing. Especially…. This last week or so, I don’t know what would have happened if you weren’t there.’

Jenna watched his face as attempted to hold himself together. She was critically aware it was now after four in the morning, and he was ill and she was questioning him about some very sensitive emotions. She’d be on the edge of breaking down too.

‘I’m sorry, Peter, you need to get some rest, I’ve no right to be poking about demanding answers for things.

‘Years,’ he cut in, ‘If I’m honest with myself, it’s probably years.’

Jenna had just opened her mouth to ask more when his coughing began again and he had to lean forward and brace himself on the bed. It went on and on, with him struggling to breathe in between times and holding his bruised ribs. Jenna recovered the box of tissues and handed him a couple while she rubbed his back. His chest sounded wet and rumbly and sure enough after a few minutes he was bringing up phlegm, spitting it into the tissues.

‘Sorry,’ he panted, ‘That wasn’t pleasant for either of us.’

‘It’s ok, it needs to come up,’ she helped him lie back again, ‘Give me those I’ll bin them.’

‘You’d probably be better burning them,’ he joked, ‘I’m probably highly contagious.’

‘Doubt that… give.’

‘Bring the bin to me, these are disgusting.’

Jenna grabbed the little wastebasket by the window and brought it over for him to dump the contaminated tissues in. She was just setting it on the floor when something caught her eye. She leaned down.

‘Eww, Jenna for God’s sake what are you doing guddling about in there?’

‘Shh, I saw something.’

‘Did it wave at you? Has it got legs?’

‘No!’ she gave a distracted laugh and then lifted a tissue up and held it close to the lamp with a frown.

‘What is it?’ Peter asked tiredly.

‘Blood,’ she said, ‘You’re coughing up blood.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ he waved her forward to show him. Sure enough when she opened the tissue a patch of rusty coloured blood could be seen amongst its contents. Peter looked palely at it. ‘That’s probably not a good thing is it?’ he asked her.

‘I’m calling a doctor right now,’ Jenna said heading for her room for her mobile.

‘Jenna! Wait!’

‘Wait? You’re coughing up blood and you want me to out that on hold? Now way mister, I’m calling a doctor.’

‘Its not like ‘m haemorrhaging everywhere is it? Its not fresh. And its already well after four now. Just, just come back here…’

Jenna hesitated, torn between going back to her room or joining Peter on his bed.

‘Are you suggesting we wait it out til morning?’ she asked.

‘That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. I’m OK, Jenna. I mean yes I think I have a chest infection, and yes that will need treating. But my temperature is down, I don’t feel quite as rotten. Thus can wait four or five hours I promise.’

She hovered by his bed. ‘You’d tell me if you had bad pain… or something,’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ said pacifyingly.

‘You are so annoying,’ Jenna stated as she climbed up on the bed next to him. ‘You’re so ill and you wont let me help. Again.’

‘A few hours Jen, that’s all. Then I’m almost certain they will whip me away to hospital again,’ he sighed, ‘I can’t really face that right this moment. Let me get a bit of rest before they start loading me into another ambulance.’

Jenna looked at his face and at the fatigue she saw there. It must be daunting, being ferried back and forth to hospital. He thought he’d been doing well and now this. Maybe he deserved a few hours. He would wait for the doctor in A&E that long anyway.

‘OK,’ she said, ‘You lie back and try and get some sleep. But if I hear any nasty coughing bouts, I’ll be right through watching you, and examining tissues…’

He laughed, ‘Got you eye on me huh?’

‘Oh yes, don’t doubt it,’ Jenna pushed herself up off the bed again. Peter looked up.

‘You’re going next door?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, I thought…’ she gestured at the bunk beds.

Peter held out his hand for her to take. ‘Please stay,’ he asked of her, ‘You’re the hot water bottle remember?’

Jenna giggled, ‘Um… ok you’re still in need of that I guess.’ She hesitated and her tone became more serious. ‘We’re ok right? And you’re ok with me being in your bed? You’re not just trying to, smooth things over or… make a point or…’

Peter looked at her tiredly. ‘Honestly Jenna I don’t know what my motivation is. Do I need to formulate a reason?’ Jenna chewed her lower lip awkwardly.

‘Ok,’ he continued, ‘I’m tired and I feel feverish and I’m coughing up gunk with blood in it, so I guess I feel scared…. I want you here with me because you say you love me, because you obviously care, because you’re warm like a hot water bottle…’ he smiled at her laugh. ‘Because you make me feel safe and…’he paused just a beat,’ and because I love you too and there’s no escaping it,’ he finished.

Jenna climbed back into the bed, snuggled into the space she had been occupying before and felt Peter put his arm around her. He was feverish and his t-shirt felt damp. She could smell his scent on the material and feel the rhythm of his heart and lungs under her head. She placed her hand just below his ribs and felt his stomach move with each breath. He shivered and coughed a little.

It was strange and familiar. She knew Peter so well, his every tone of voice, his every expression. She had watched him run and jump and sit and stand and everything in between. But there was a side of him she’d never been privy to before and it involved this closeness, this different perspective; listening to his body, cocooned in his arms. Jenna closed her eyes and focused on the lullaby of his heartbeat, wondered if it sounded different these days to what it had before.

Had it beat differently when he was with Elaine? Had it altered after the heart attack to the sound she heard now? If so, she was the only woman to have laid against his chest and heard its new beat. That was unique, a gift just for her in the midst of all the fear. If she had ever questioned her feelings for him, she never would again. This was love. This was for the duration.

How they were going to manage that was another matter.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter stubbornly refuses admission as Christmas approaches.

‘Well this is fun,’ Peter grumbled from his elevated position on the hospital trolley. Jenna glanced up at him and raised her eyebrows from behind her magazine.

‘You will do as you are told,’ she said.

‘Since when?’

‘Since you started coughing your lungs up last night not even two weeks after a heart attack.’

Peter slumped back against the part of the trolley which was set at an angle to allow him to sit upright. He looked pale, but annoyed. Jenna figured if he had the energy to be annoyed it was a good sign. He’d been coughing less but seemed shorter of breath and slightly irritable with fatigue. Fatigue and the revelation that he wasn’t actually a superhuman alien with amazing powers of recovery.

‘You know it’s at times like this your inner Malcolm shows,’ she commented and he shot her a look.

‘I just want to go home, Jenna. I’ve been examined, we know it’s a chest infection. Can’t they just give me the pills and put us in a taxi back?’

‘That’s for them to decide. They were talking about keeping you in for a few…’

‘No!’ Peter interrupted. ‘Jenna its coming up to Christmas. I don’t want to spend the run up in a ward full of crumblies contemplating my own mortality… _again_. I’ve done enough of that. Pills. Home. End of.’

‘You are the worst patient ever,’ she said, casting her eye over the middle section of her copy of _Heat._ Made up faces surrounded by poor extensions stared back at her.

‘What’s so fascinating in there anyway?’ Peter asked.

‘I am,’ she answered. ‘I went to a few things before I took this break. I’ve been papped,’ she sighed and bent the pages round on themselves, held them up for him to see. ‘I mean I have all my clothes on and haven’t got too pissed unlike many, but honestly you can’t go anywhere or do anything without a camera in your face these days.’

Peter looked at her in amusement. ‘Well it is a _celebrity_ party Jenna, and you do look very beautiful. They’re hardly going to ignore you.’

‘I know, I know I just want my cake and all that…. You know I used to wonder how you did it. You never lost patience with anybody, so many fans, and you are still always lovely to them.’

‘Oh no since you left I’ve been a grumpy old bastard,’ he said and she gawped at him.

‘What I’ve never heard any stories…’ she said. Peter winked.

‘Not really,’ he said.

They were interrupted by a nurse wanting to cover Peter in yet more sticky pads and take another tracing of his, apparently stable enough, heart. Jenna excused herself from the little cubicle and went for a low key walk outside. They had been in the tinsel draped A&E department the best part of two hours already and she knew it was only because of who Peter was that he was being seen so fast.

He had been right to get some rest at home before she had driven them in. This could turn out to be a long day if they needed to move him upstairs and settle him too.

Jenna had tried to get a Doctor to come out and see them but it seemed that wasn’t the done thing in the disintegrating NHS anymore, and that they would have to choose between driving and getting an ambulance. Peter wouldn’t hear of the latter option in case someone ‘really sick’ needed it so she wrapped him up as warm as she could and stuck him in the preheated car.

The reaction in the department was almost amusing. A dozen over worked staff trying very hard to be super professional and not get excited that Doctor Who had just walked in. He refused a wheelchair and Jenna didn’t want to let him freeze outside while she argued it so he just strolled in and surprised everyone. As they showed him to his cubicle Jenna noted one by one they all made an excuse to say hi and some even asked for his autograph then and there. He obliged, as ever, but the whole scenario was annoying Jenna sufficiently for her to ask the head nurse to control her staff. Peter would no doubt sign and do pictures later, he always did, but he was just in the doors ad he was sick. Ignore what he said, claiming to be OK, he was ill. Do your job first.

While Jenna had been dealing with the nurses Peter had been poke and prodded by the Doctors. The junior doctor was utterly starstruck but whereas it had been irritating when Peter was last admitted to hospital, this time he found it rather sweet as she fell over her words and asked shyly if he would open his shirt so she could listen to his chest. Jenna watched him be charm itself to try and calm her down, she had plenty of sympathy for the young woman, she of all people knew how wobbly Peter could make people feel, but she also knew how quickly he could put them at ease.

Doctor Hart, as it turned out her name was, something which made Peter chuckle, examined him well enough and then asked to take bloods. Her hands were visibly shaking although she must have done the procedure time and time again. Again Peter reassured her and she thankfully managed without too much damage before scurrying away to order a chest x-ray and probably collapse with nervous exhaustion at the nurses’ station.

Jenna imagined something similar happening now with his heart tracing. She had briefly wandered to the carpark but decided it was just too cold and came back. She could sense one or two eyes in the department on her, both staff and waiting patients. Unlike Peter she didn’t quite have the patience to sign things while she was worrying about him, so she edged her way carefully back to his cubicle, avoiding all eye contact.

She slipped around the curtain and was confronted by the sight of Peter sitting up in bed, carefully dressed again and three very small children trying to get his attention. Two of them were on the bed next to him, no older than three or four she guessed, and the third was waiting patiently but with the glint of excitement in his eyes as he held tightly to his Doctor Who Comic. He was too old to climb on the bed but no less over the moon to find the Doctor in the cubicle a few down from him.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked warily. ‘You’re supposed to be resting,’ she hissed over the children’s heads as Peter appraised one three year olds drawing of the TARDIS, a blue scribble with a round ‘head’ next to it that belonged apparently to him.

‘Got bored,’ he said. ‘This is Carly who comes from the cubicle next door, she’s not been very well overnight but she’s a bit better now, right? Right. And her twin Peter… good name Peter. And this young man who is being so good waiting here, that’s Mark.’

Jenna glared at him. ‘Peter you are ill, you should be politely declining signing anything not inviting people into your cubicle!’

He looked up at her as he switched twins and signed their Doctor Who Adventures that they had obviously rushed to the hospital shop for, the covers clean and undog-eared.

‘Oh hush its hardly stressful is it? Three kiddies?’ he held her eye in challenge for a moment and she gave up, knowing how dedicated he could be, and sat by his beside again. She listened to him tell Mark that there were aliens in the hospital and to be careful because he suspected they were shape shifters. Jenna rolled her eyes at him and watched him try not to laugh at the face she pulled.

The curtains opened and Doctor Hart stood awkwardly between them wondering where the children had come from.

‘Um…’ she said.

‘Ok kids,’ Jenna decided to take command, ‘Back to your own cubicle, Pete… I mean the Doctor he needs to do some undercover work and speak to this lady for information,’ she watched the kids eyeball Doctor Hart suspiciously and keep eyeballing her as they left. The curtains shut behind them.

‘Sorry,’ Jenna said, ‘They might grill you a bit about Zygons later.’

‘Its fine, so umm… Sir, your tests…’

Peter adjusted himself against the pillows and gave her his attention.

‘Your bloods showed raised white cells and your chest X-ray shows consolidation in the lower right lobe and there is some bilateral atelectasis, not unusual after being in ITU a while.’

Jenna appealed for a translation with her eyes.

‘You have pneumonia, a lower respiratory tract infection,’ Hart said.

‘And the blood, the stuff he coughed up?’ Jenna pressed.

‘That can be quite common, dried rusty blood like that, because of the infection.’

‘I don’t have consumption then, that’s great,’ Peter reassured Jenna and she glared at him.

‘I’m just being concerned,’ she said. Peter reached for one of her hands.

‘I know, I know…’ he reassured her again. She smiled and then noticed Doctor Hart looking at her curiously so she dropped his hand and sat firmly back in her own space.

‘So I’ll live is what you’re saying, just a chest infection?’

‘Well you have been very unwell recently and we should be cautious…’

‘How cautious?’ he asked and Jenna could tell he was not going to accept any kind of hint he needed to be kept in.

‘Well I’ve arranged a bed upstairs…’ Doctor Hart started. Peter immediately broke eye contact with her and held up his hands.

‘No, politely no,’ he said looking back at her, ‘I am not spending the run up to Christmas in hospital. Just give me some antibiotics, send me home, and I will promise to keep warm and eat my chicken soup. I will even do the physio.’

Doctor Hart looked a bit dumbfounded, ‘But it really would be best if…’

‘Peter, just listen to her, even if it’s just for a night or two.’

Jenna watched him flop back against the pillows and stare at the lights above him.

‘What’s the treatment?’ he asked.

‘Fluids and antibiotics and rest,’ Doctor Hart said.

‘Right. All of which I can do… _at home_ ,’ he said. Jenna opened her mouth to protest but he silenced her. ‘No, Jenna, we are leaving. It will be fine I promise.’

‘Peter for God’s sake you nearly died the other week why can’t you be sensible?’

‘I’m not about to die. Am I?’ he asked the young doctor.

‘Um.. no.. I mean this infection should respond well to the antibiotics…. But we’d prefer…’

Peter turned back to Jenna.

‘Home. Please?’ he said. She was about to keep at him, persuade him of the importance of hospital when she saw something behind his eyes which made sense. He really didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want to be on a ward and he didn’t want to be surrounded by the sick and dying. He’d had a hell of an experience in hospital the last time and he wanted no repeats. If he felt he could cope lying in bed at the cottage and taking his fluids then he would take that option every time and there was no point in arguing because he was scared, and fear is hard to argue with.

Jenna relented. ‘Ok, home but you are spending the next few days in bed, promise me?’

She watched him purse his lips slightly as the junior doctor retreated out the cubicle to arrange medicines and discharge papers.. He avoided Jenna’s gaze.

‘Promise me?’ she said.

‘Yes, yes, bed, I’ll stay in bed. Or maybe on the couch?’

Jenna sighed. ‘I’ve got my work cut out haven’t I?’ she said.

‘No, no I promise I will be a very easy patient, I’ll do as you say, just as long as I don’t have to be here.’ He looked at her with slightly wide eyes, that flicker of nerves behind them and she stood up from her little bedside chair and went to him. The trolley was high and she paused, confused.

‘I was going to hug you and tell you its all ok but you’re too far up.’

Peter laughed at his tiny companion.

‘Hang in,’ she said, and she clambered up the bars of the trolley eventually pulling herself onto the mattress. Peter dissolved next to her as he watched her progress.

‘You are ridiculous,’ he said when she was done. ‘You could have just lowered the trolley, there’s a lever.’

‘What?!’ Jenna exclaimed, shocked; she prodded him in the arm, ‘You let me huff and puff and climb my way up here…’

‘It was entertaining…’

‘Oh… you… _Peter_!’ Jenna protested. He smiled at her gently.

‘Thank you for letting me come home,’ he said, ‘Actually thank you for providing me with a home this Christmas, I um… well it’s going to be very different for me. Away from London and the family, but I want you to know I _do_ want to be here, with you, just us, even if I go a bit distant now and then.’

‘Peter I understand if you’re finding it hard and missing people…’

‘Oh I have no doubt I’ll feel worse yet but I don’t want to think about it right now. I’ve got a chest infection to deal with first and probably an army of young fans to get through when we leave.’

Jenna watched his face for a moment, the passage of emotion behind his features that she could usually read so well. Yes, there was fear, fear of hospital, fear of a very different kind of Christmas and how he might feel. Fear for his health and his future. But there was also a tiny smidgeon of something else that lit brightly when he caught her eye. A thing that made her heart leap. Jenna leaned forward and kissed his cheek gently.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘I’ll be with you every step of the way.’

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at home and Peter's recovery starts. Jenna has some thinking to do.

‘You’re sure you have everything you need?’ Jenna hovered in front of the couch, ‘You know really you should be in bed.’

‘Jenna will you sit down?’ Peter’s voice sounded mid-way between amusement and irritation, ‘You’re buzzing around like a fly, just relax, I’m ok.’

She looked at the table next to him and counted out items there to herself in a half whisper, ‘tissues, fluids, breathing machine thingy, bin, snacks, phone charger, remote control,’ it looked like everything but she needed to be sure. He should really be in bed, maybe one more try at persuading him, just for a day?

Sometime during her deliberations Peter’s patience left him, ‘Jenna come and sit, right now, no arguments, come here,’ he beckoned. She looked up at him at last, dragging herself from her anxious thoughts. He didn’t look too bad now he was home again and warmed up. She’d wanted him to go back to bed but he wouldn’t hear of it and told her he just wanted a bit of normalcy that evening, so she’d brought bed to him instead. It’s what her mum had always done.

Peter was tucked under a duvet with his table of essentials to his left. There was colour to his cheeks but he didn’t look too feverish and he’d taken his anti biotics and various other pills in front of her so she could be sure. She was becoming obsessive, and was itching make some sort of checklist she could follow but when she suggested it his expression had been so mocking she’d put the idea away again. He flipped open the corner of the duvet and gestured for her to join him.

Jenna sat down and the duvet found its way over her, Peter tucked her in and put one arm around her shoulder dragging her to him for a second to kiss the top of her head, before releasing her.

‘Now stop worrying,’ he said.

‘Easy for you to say,’ she said huffily.

Peter looked at her levelly, ‘Well not so easy actually, the last twenty-four hours have been pretty stressful for me too.’

Jenna kicked herself, ‘Sorry, sorry, I know they have. I just want you to be well, get better, and I’ve all this stuff in my head… I know you do too, and life keeps chucking curveballs at us so we can’t think straight or work out what to do...’ She scrunched up her face and rubbed her eyes.

Peter was watching her as she struggled with her current reality, alone in a cottage in wales with her best friend -come-invalid-come-potential lover. He gave her a small sympathetic smile.

‘Do you know what we should do?’ he asked. Jenna stopped rubbing her face with both hands and looked at him. ‘We should forget about it. Just forget about all the dilemmas and worries and problems of the future and just be here, now, a few days before Christmas.’

‘I don’t think that’s how adult life works,’ Jenna replied.

‘You and I are the least grown up people I know, remember?’ he raised his eyebrows.

Jenna laughed. ‘So what we hole up here for Christmas and ignore the world?’

‘Yes, why not? Turn your phone off for starters, you’re addicted to text messages.’

‘I am not!’

‘And emojis, you are forever sending them and they make no sense at all. Turn it all off and put it to one side and let’s do something old fashioned.’

‘Old fashioned how?’ Jenna said guddling under the duvet and finding her phone in her pocket. She took it out and turned it off, jumping a little when Peter snatched it off her and confiscated it. He dropped it onto the table with everything else.

‘Well let’s think. What do people do at Christmas? What did you do when you were little?’

‘Um…’ Jenna thought back to the early nineties. ‘Play board games?’ she said, ‘Run about in the snow? Watch Christmas movies and hour long specials of Eastenders?’ she glanced at him and saw him watching her carefully, leaning sideways against the back of the couch so he could see her face properly.

‘I’m not up to running in the snow quite yet,’ he said.

‘There is no way I would let you do that,’ Jenna said firmly, ‘You aren’t going outside again for about a year. Which reminds me, have you done your second lot of breathing exercises?’

Peter flopped back on the couch again dramatically, ‘You are going to be at me constantly aren’t you? I’ll do them later.’

‘Do them now!’ Jenna insisted.

‘Later.’

‘See! You’re already being disobedient!’ You promised me…’

‘Disobedient?’ he asked laughing, ‘Have I been a bad dog?’

Jenna spluttered, giggling, ‘Yes a very bad dog who needs bringing into line.’ She saw him playfully raise his eyebrows and suddenly felt a quiver of something run through her.

‘Feel free to… bring me into line… tell me off or whatever,’ he said suggestively. The quiver turned into an outright tremble of excitement. Jenna looked away from him. Christ he was ill she shouldn’t be feeling like that, all heated and… she threw the duvet back a bit.

‘You feeling a bit warm?’ he asked, knowing, she thought, damn well how she was feeling.

‘Shut up,’ she said and then leaned over him for the little breathing device the physio had given him. ‘Wrap your lips around this and do as you’re told.’

‘That sounds a bit…’ he started.

‘Shut up!’ she warned again raising one hand. He laughed and made a show of taking the device. Jenna stood and moved through to the kitchen area to make a comforting and sensible cup of tea for them both. She kept her back to Peter, not wanting to make eye contact. She wasn’t sure what had come over her. Or rather she knew what the feeling was but she didn’t feel it was appropriate right now. The man was still on antibiotics, he was very much recovering and not up to her making improper suggestions.

She added milk and noticed her hand was shaking as the bottle rattled off the mugs. Dear God why was this so difficult? It shouldn’t be hard just to calm down for a little while until he felt better. Maybe it was because they had both recently confessed. The knowledge that they both wanted one another was out there now, floating between them. Instead of them both trying to ignore it they were both actively wondering what it would be like, what the other person was thinking.

Perhaps too, it was that near death thing. That feeling that he had been snatched back from the pearly gates at the last minute and now she wanted to smother him with kisses, embrace him and check he was alive, living, breathing, loving her. He probably felt the same, wanting to feel more alive than ever, wanting to prove to himself life as he knew it wasn’t over.

She turned back and took the tea to them setting the as yet too hot beverages on the increasingly full side table.

‘I’d have less equipment and medicine if I was still in the hospital,’ Peter said, ‘Do stop fussing woman,’ he added as she adjusted his side of the duvet. ‘Are you alright?’ he asked after a beat.

‘I’m ok, are you ok? You’re the important one here,’ she said. Peter cocked his head at her and studied her knowingly.

‘Right that does it,’ she felt his arms under the duvet looping around her and suddenly he had hauled her against his body.

‘Peter!’ she squealed, ‘What are you doing, be careful, you’re ill!’

‘Consider it physiotherapy,’ he said, encouraging her to adjust her position. She was pressed against his side with her own arms around his neck looking for balance.

‘That’s what the breathing machine is for,’ she protested.

‘Seriously Jenna, a choice between breathing machine and you? I’m going to go for you every time.’

She giggled at him.

‘Oh and _how_ am I going to help you with your breathing?’

‘Well I have one or two ideas,’ he said gravely. Jenna looked into his face suddenly realising how very close he was. That feeling of his breathing against her again, the warmth of it on her skin this time, the smell of him, and those changing magical colours in his eyes. Grey, green, blue.

‘Oh?’ she said in a tiny voice. She could see him looking over her face, drinking in her features, a faint smile on his lips. For once that kind of intimate attention didn’t make her feel uncomfortable and she wriggled slightly so he could hold her more comfortably.

‘Well a lot of this physio stuff is about taking deep breaths, holding them, that sort of thing…’ he said almost as quietly. Jenna felt one of his hands come up to her hair while the other held her at the small of her back. He gently played with stray strands and then let the back of his knucles trail over her cheek. She felt her skin tingle and closed her eyes briefly.

‘Peter…’ she breathed.

She felt his lips close on her hers and him press against her more firmly, the tightening of his arm and a needy movement of his mouth as he kissed her. She had kissed him before, that tender light touch she had initiated herself, but this was different. There was passion, and need, and something else that told illness and death that it could wait, it wasn’t wanted here. She could hear him making tiny noises at the back of his throat, desire evidently running equally through both of them, and his breath coming in bursts against her cheek. She wanted to wind herself around him and never let go.

At last he broke away, rather suddenly and she heard him pant for a moment, his head dropping against her shoulder. For a second she worried she’d put him through too much but he seemed to quickly recover, a short bout of coughing aside.

Jenna looked at him, ‘Sorry,’ she said, as it tailed off, his face averted from her.

‘Sorry?! What for?’ he looked round again.

‘Well, I mean…. I maybe should have let you come up for air a bit sooner,’ she said.

Peter let his head flop against the couch again and laughed easily. ‘Yes, that was terrible the way you insisted on continuing to kiss me.’

Jenna snorted and he shuffled her properly onto his lap. He gazed into her eyes and she noticed his pupils were wide and deep. ‘Before you wonder, I’m ok,’ he said.

‘Ok,’ she agreed calmly, ‘I will believe you and not fret too much.’ She felt him stroking her back, gently and leaned forward to kiss him again. This time a slower, deeper, gentler kiss that lasted minutes back and forth between them. She felt herself grow more and more aroused with each minute and when she broke away she felt like she was on fire. She looked up at him, noted the desire in his eyes and felt a sense of relief. They seemed to be on the same page.

‘Peter…’ she said softly, ‘Do you want to…?’ she looked towards the stairs trying to be both subtle but obvious at the same time. In reality she wanted to drag him up there right then and there.

She heard him take a sharp breath through his teeth and then watched him pass a free hand over his face where it stopped at his mouth and nose. His eyes peered over the top, embarrassed.

‘I was hoping this wouldn’t come up… so to speak… for a little while,’ he said. ‘I um….well I mean the last couple of weeks I’ve…’

Jenna suddenly realised what he was trying to say.

‘Oh god I’m an idiot!’ she exclaimed. ‘You only had a heart attack two weeks ago and now you’re sick with a chest infection and here I am trying to seduce you. What the hell am I thinking, you need rest, not me doing this…I am so selfish. I didn’t even think! Its like I had total brain freeze, how could I…’

Peter looked shocked as she scrabbled off of him berating herself. ‘I’m not really protesting,’ he said. Jenna resumed her position next to him and continued to beat herself up.

‘No but, there’s a line right? A line to be drawn until you’re feeling better and then we go gradually because well… you have to build up your strength and what did the nurse say about sex anyway? Did you ask that? I can’t remember?’ she was back to full on worry and a painful need to understand and have knowledge of the whole healing process. What if she made things worse?

‘It wasn’t top of my priorities at that point,’ Peter said drily, ‘I wasn’t really expecting this situation to come up.’

‘Right,’ Jenna sat awkwardly on the couch her mind racing. ‘So… um… what do we do?’

‘Take it slow?’ he suggested, ‘I’m sorry Jenna, believe me normally I’d jump at the chance but… I don’t know where the line is now, what my body can and can’t do and if I’m honest it’s a bit unnerving. Just let me get the chest infection out of the way at least…’

‘Yes! Yes, god you must think I’m so selfish.’

‘Not selfish no, I was there too,’ he replied.

She chewed her lip for a moment feeling rotten until Peter beckoned her come nearer again. He kissed her gently.

‘Do not use this as an excuse to feel bad,’ he said kindly, ‘We’re both in the same boat really. I mean I’ve not had a massive heart attack before it’s all a bit new.’

She laughed despite herself and cuddled closer.

‘Take it slow,’ she echoed. ‘OK, I can do that…put the telly on,’ she added. The screen flicked onto a Christmas game show of some persuasion, and she tried to settle back and dismiss any worrying thoughts of the future. She hadn’t realised just how much of a person’s life this kind of thing could affect and for how long. It wasn’t just the sex, she wanted him to be happy, and she knew that meant being able to work, travel, run, just for starters. He was always active and busy, if he had to significantly curb that he’d go mad.

Jenna lay against him watching bright colours dance on the screen and listening to applause, but her mind was elsewhere. What if he was never anywhere close to one hundred percent again? What would he do? And what’s more, what would she?


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Jenna test Peter's fitness. (basically smut)

Jenna hopped on the spot next to the Christmas tree and attempted to hang the mischievous bauble which had fallen from it minutes before. Unfortunately, it had fallen from a high branch, she couldn’t quite reach. It was irritating her beyond belief and she couldn’t rest until it was back where it should be. Everything was irritating her today she realised. She was still wound up from last night, when a session on the couch with Peter had left both of them breathless and aching but unsure of what to do.

She could also hear Peter stifling his giggles on the couch and that annoyed her almost as much. She supposed she must look somewhat entertaining and it was nice to hear him laugh but she felt prickly as hell.

‘You know I can…’ he started.

‘No!’

‘Jenna it’s one bauble.’

‘You’re resting, you’re not…’ hop ‘helping me,’ hop ‘with baubles.’ She gave up and stood at the base of the tree glaring at it. ‘It’ll just have to go lower.’ Jenna picked a random branch and shoved it on. It aggravated her, messing up her carefully balanced display. She had spent the whole of one afternoon decorating the thing before bringing Peter home.

‘Come back,’ Peter called her over and she carefully wound her way under the duvet again, curling happily around him as It’s a Wonderful Life played out on the screen. She might be a bit wound up but she still loved that he was here, that she could do this. It was Christmas Eve, Peter had stopped hacking up a lung and some level of routine had set in. She just had to focus on the good. Jenna petted his stomach fondly as he half watched the TV.

‘Are you trying to tell me something?’ he looked down.

‘Hmm… what?’

He nodded at his stomach, ‘Do I need to lose weight? I’m not sure how much exercise I can do.’

Jenna laughed, ‘No you don’t need to lose weight. And I would have thought my super healthy recipes would be enough to keep you in shape.’ She felt his hand trailing slowly up and down her back and her spine tingled. She glanced up to see him watching her, a by now familiar expression on his face. It made her heart leap when he looked at her that way. God they were as bad as each other, desperate, but plagued with uncertainty.

She wriggled up his body a little and positioned herself where she could be kissed easily, leaning so that it would be simple for him to rest his forehead against hers between kisses. She felt him grip her hips and squeeze below them, watched him shut his eyes. They had been days at this and it was becoming torturous for both of them.

Peter had been pretty sick, antibiotics or not. His temperature had barrelled up and down, he’d had disturbed nights where the sweat ran from him and he coughed painfully. He’d felt queasy on the drugs and lost his appetite again and the whole infection had sapped him of what strength he had regained. Over the days following the end of his antibiotic course he had needed to work hard to catch up again and she could see it frustrated him. Two steps forward, one back, he felt almost as bad as he did when he was first discharged.

Jenna helped out best she could, cooked and made him eat, reminded him about his physio and generally poured positivity over him in bucketfuls until he could bear it no longer. Then he would kiss her quiet for a bit. Easy going, laid back kisses to start with. Kisses that could last an age and result in them both tangled in the duvet on the couch, warm and contented.

It was just unfortunate that very quickly they were both needing more and neither of them knew how far they could go. Jenna wriggled against Peter as the film went on and looked past him to where her poor abandoned confiscated phone still sat on the table. He followed her eyes.

‘No,’ he said, ‘No phoning.’

‘I don’t want to phone.’

‘Or texting. Especially not that.’

‘I don’t want to text I want to google.’

‘What can you possibly want to google right now?’ he asked.

Jenna sat up and heaved herself across him to grab the mobile so that she was laying over his lap level with the arm of the chair. She felt him shift under her and she moved slightly so that she wasn’t crushing him. She powered up the phone and searched for ‘heart attacks’ and ‘sex.’

Peter squinted down at the screen. ‘Oh God…Jenna… really?’

‘Yes really, it’s a serious subject.’ She could almost feel his cheeks burning above her.

‘I feel bad enough about this without you googling for solutions. I feel like I can’t get better fast enough.’

‘That’s not why I’m doing it,’ she sat up and looked at him properly, ‘I’m not saying you’re inadequate or not improving quickly enough…’

Peter stared at her for a moment, ‘I didn’t think you were saying that, but thanks,’ he said protectively. He looked away, his feathers clearly ruffled.

‘I just want to know how to help, what to do, how to tell if it’s all too much…’ she flicked through the pages. ‘It’s a really common concern,’ she added.

‘I hate it when you do leaflet-speak,’ he moaned.

‘Shh… its important you hear this stuff. Its common and loads of guys are really worried about the first time afterwards. Most people wait a month or so but there is no golden rule. And you’re not going to give yourself another attack. You just have to do what you can manage…’

‘Are you done, because this is excruciating,’ he said.

‘And you need to encourage your partner to take an active role…’ she went on, ‘while you relax a little to start with.’ Jenna caught his eye and raised one brow.

‘Really?’ he said, ‘That’s the official advice?’

Jenna held back her smile best she could as he tentatively started to feel his way.

‘That’s the advice,’ she confirmed and put the phone down. ‘You want to see how it goes?’

Peter blinked at her, ‘What? Now? Right now?’

‘Just a thought,’ Jenna mused. ‘I mean it’s Christmas Eve, we’re all sorted for tomorrow…’

‘Um…’

She looked at him thoughtfully, noting the way he wouldn’t meet her eye for any length of time and the tell-tale thumb chewing he had lapsed into. ‘

You don’t have to,’ she said, ‘It’s just an idea.’

Peter shut his eyes. ‘Sorry, it’s just… I want to, really, but, saying let’s just go for it, it’ll be fine. Its um…. It’s a bit daunting.’

Jenna rubbed his arm, ‘But that’s not what I’m saying, I’m saying let’s see how it goes, go slow.’

‘Jenna deep down you’re thinking it’ll be fine.’

‘Well it might be!’

‘No, it won’t,’ Peter said firmly. ‘Jenna I’m twice your age and I’ve been ill and now I’m rattling with heart medications and all of that… it makes things…’ he stopped and looked in the opposite direction, at the fire in the hearth. ‘I don’t think I can manage…’ he said quietly. It was incredible awkward and the words made her cringe. She felt awful for making him feel pressured that way and for making him admit it.

Jenna fell silent. She wanted to argue the point but was increasingly getting the message that he had no belief in it. He was convinced the whole thing would be a disaster and to be honest she didn’t quite know what to do. She’d never been in a situation like it. She wondered what to say, how to reassure him again and get him back on a level when he suddenly diverted the whole conversation.

‘Jenna are you positive you want to be here for Christmas?’ he asked.

‘What?’ she responded, shocked. ‘Of course I am that’s been the plan all along.’

‘But you love your family Christmas, you could still go first thing and make it, you don’t have to spend it here with me.’

‘Peter! Shut up where’s all this coming from? You’re so down on yourself tonight. I said I wanted to stay with you and I do. I’ve bought a turkey. There’s cranberry sauce. You are not escaping this.’

He smiled weakly, ‘I just don’t want you to feel stuck. I’m not going to be the best entertainment this year, I’ve not even done Christmas shopping. God everyone’s going to think I’ve deliberately neglected them…’

‘They won’t, when they find out what’s happened further down the line they will understand. And personally the fact you’re OK, best present ever.’

‘If I’m OK…. Really…’ he muttered.

He leaned back, still avoiding her gaze and set about looking miserable. Jenna squeezed his hand under the duvet.

‘I didn’t mean to make you feel pressured. I was trying to make you feel the opposite… let you know we can do whatever you want and it’ll be ok… but at your pace.’

‘You’re frustrated aren’t you?’ he said. ‘You’re being nice but its driving you mad.’

‘I… I want you yes, but it won’t kill me to wait.’

If anything he looked even more unhappy at her declaration. Jenna moved forward a touch and kissed him insistently. After a few moments he relented and put his arms around her, deepening the kiss instinctively.

‘See,’ she said between breaths, ‘Its ok once you get started.’ She felt him smile against her and slip his hands under her top. She nearly exploded when he brushed over her breasts with his fingertips but kept her cool best she could. She had to boost his confidence somehow. Jenna started undoing her top before letting him complete the task. While he was busy with her bra she slipped her hand down to his thigh just above his knee and began a slow assault on him, one he could stop at any moment.

She thought she heard him protest slightly but when she listened again the sound had become a groan of pleasure. Jenna continued massaging his leg in time to their kisses and pushed her fingers between his thighs near his crotch. He felt hot there and she could hear him breathing faster.

‘You ok?’ she whispered.

‘Yes… please… don’t stop…’

‘You’ll let me know?’

He nodded against her shoulder and she let her hand trail over the apex of his trousers. She could feel the beginnings of is erection beneath the material so pulled back and helped herself to his belt and fastenings. Again he puffed a few breaths in response, hot on her neck and she heard him make a small strangled noise as she slipped her hand into his underwear and found skin.

He wasn’t quite there so she stroked and massaged him for a minute or two, whispering into his ear. She had surprised him before by talking up what they were doing and it seemed to be something that worked well for him now as she described how he was making her feel, how much she wanted him. At last he lay heavy in her hand and she pumped him steadily.

They kissed and when the kiss broke off he pressed his forehead to hers, damp with sweat. His eyes were shut and he was tense against her. Jenna moved her hand faster over him, tightening her grip slightly and he made a noise of desire mixed with frustration.

‘It’s ok take your time,’ she whispered but it was clear he was struggling to move past some kind of plateau of arousal. He gasped a few times against her, his cheeks flushed.

‘I can’t…’

‘Yes you can… just try to relax…’

She Heard him make a growling sound and watched his brow knit together. He leaned into the crook of her neck and let out a series of tiny desperate noises. Jenna reached for his hand.

‘Here,’ she said positioning it over her own, ‘Guide me, show me what you're needing.’

‘Jenna…’ he sounded uncertain.

‘Go on, its ok.. teach me…’

She felt his hand wrap around hers tentatively and begin to dictate a different rhythm. By her cheek she heard a change in his tone as he groaned and he began to pick up pace, clamp his fingers over hers and direct exactly the course. Jenna felt a thrill run through her as her hand detected the slightest change in him, thicker harder. He was closing in on his release, breath coming hard, no sign of stopping, or of worrying if he should.

‘Oh yes, that’s it…’ she whispered into his ear, ‘That’s what you needed, you’ve shown me now, I’m going to make you come so hard…’

‘Ah!’ Peter tensed hard in her arms as she felt him spill out over their joined hands. He moaned and held himself tight to her, his grip on himself as hard as ever and then he seemed to melt away, lean again against the couch, breath coming hard and fast and a low moan passing through him.

Jenna cleaned up her hands and kissed him softly on the lips as she waited for him to drift down again. Eventually he opened his eyes.

‘OK?’ she said. He smiled, nodded. Checked his heart with one hand and spent a good few seconds concentrating on it.

‘OK,’ he breathed.

‘Any pain…?’ Jenna asked him and received a shake of the head and gesture to come nearer.

‘You’re sure?’ she checked.

‘I’m absolutely pain free… a little floaty, in a good way but otherwise… normal.’

Jenna chewed her lower lip shyly. She was beyond needy after touching him that way and felt truly might she might explode if he didn’t help her out. She hated being so basic, hated that her sex was dictating her behaviour, but she couldn’t focus on anything else. She’d wanted him for weeks now and it was all getting too much. ‘That’s good,’ she said quietly, ‘that’s good because…um…’

‘Lie back,’ he said from nowhere, suddenly more self assured, ‘Lie back and let me repay the favour….’

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Day

The sunrise was red on the horizon, a sliver of orange and gold above the fields Jenna could just see thorough the cottage’s surrounding woods. The field itself was white, pure white. She stood by the back door with the warmth of the kitchen behind her and the chill of a snowy Christmas morning tickling her through her robe. She hugged herself but remained where she was, happy, mind replaying the night before, sights, sounds and sensations which she thought would stay with her forever.

And now there was snow. She and Peter had been so wrapped up in one another they had failed to notice the persistent silent fall of the flakes outside their window. There had been smatterings over the previous week but this was the real deal. Deep and soft and altering the landscape entirely. It had to be at least a foot, maybe more, and Jenna’s little car had more or less vanished under it, a mound on the drive with an aerial sticking out the top. Neither of them would be going anywhere for a while. She grinned, well that was ok, they’d stay occupied somehow.

She heard a step behind her and felt his arms circle her.

‘You’ll freeze,’ he commented, kissing her hair, ‘You spend all your time nagging me to keep warm and then I find you standing here in a bloody negligée!’

Jenna giggled, ‘It’s not a negligee it’s my robe…’

‘It’s flimsy…’

‘You love it…’

‘I do but I don’t want you to… oh I don’t know… catch pneumonia like I did?’

He had a point, apart from anything she had to make sure she was well enough to continue to look after him. Jenna rubbed his arm as he held her and then turned to face him.

‘Ok,’ she said, ‘I will keep warm. But isn’t it beautiful? Sunrise and snow and Christmas… it’s like a fairy-tale and we’re hidden away from the world.’

He rolled his eyes at her playfully, ‘Yes, yes, lovely,’ Peter leaned around her and shoved the door shut. A little gust of icy air blew around her ankles. ‘Lovely but cold, go and sit by the fire and I’ll make tea.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Jenna said automatically. He caught her arm.

‘No,’ he said slowly, ‘I can manage to make tea.’

‘But…’

‘No,’ he said more firmly, ‘It’s Christmas and you’ve been looking after me now for weeks, and, as I hope I demonstrated last night I am well on the way to recovery…if you’re a good girl and let me make the tea I might even demonstrate again.’

Jenna giggled. ‘Just don’t wear yourself out’

‘Making tea?’

‘No!’ she laughed sitting by the fire, ‘Or rather yes, save some energy for later.’

She heard Peter snort as the kettle began to boil. He seemed to have emerged vigorous and happy from their bed this morning and she wondered how quickly he might want this part of his recovery to go. They hadn’t quite dared to make love fully but they had certainly indulged one another more than enough to take the edge off the building frustration they had both been feeling. Jenna watched him pour milk into their mugs and smile to himself, relaxed and as close to his old self as she had seen for a good long while.

Finally, she thought, heading in the right direction, getting stronger.

‘Merry Christmas,’ Peter said handing her some tea. ‘Drink that and I’ll help you prep the turkey.’

‘You’re going to help me cook?’ she asked surprised.

‘I always help cook,’ he replied, ‘I’ll get bored otherwise and do something unwise like go for a run in the snow.’

‘Shut up,’

‘Or hover nearby and critically comment on your technique.’

‘Didn’t have any criticism of my technique last night,’ Jenna said.

‘Well you didn’t criticise mine either, and there is stuffing to be done.’

Jenna choked on her tea. ‘That’s the worst pun ever.’

She watched him grin and try to hide it in his mug.

‘Fine, stay and help me with my stuffing,’ she sighed, ‘But don’t interfere too much, or get in the way. And if you get tired, go and lie down…’

‘I’ll be fine…’

‘Peter…’

‘Ok, ok,’ he took a swig of tea, ‘Jenna,’ he said suddenly, thoughtfully, ‘I um… I’m going to call Cissy today. I’ve sort of been placating her for the last couple of weeks, saying I’m just up to my eyes on set, no time to get back to London. She’s used to that, but…’

‘Peter its Christmas day, call your daughter, she’s probably frantic not knowing where you are or why you haven’t shown up at home already, will Elaine have come back to be with her?’

‘Christmas is cancelled back home,’ he said avoiding her gaze, ‘Elaine is still in Scotland, she let Cissy know a few days ago and she passed on the message via text.’ Peter fiddled with the arm of the couch, his face hidden. ‘See this is why I hate texts. It’s so impersonal. You know the kind of thing. Anyway yes, today is cancelled for lack of interest, Cissy will probably be with her boyfriend or… something. ’

Jenna raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh, I… I kind of didn’t expect that. I thought Elaine’d head up there for a bit but then when Christmas came around she’d maybe want to come down, see Cissy, or…’

‘…or talk to me? Make some sort of decision around our marriage?’ Peter finished. ‘No, no decisions.’ Again he wouldn’t look at her.

Jenna stared into her tea. If she was honest with herself she’d forgotten about Elaine. She had been so focused on helping Peter, caring for him, running their little cottage. In her mind it was theirs, together, a fantasy home cut off from the world and real life dilemmas. She heard Peter turn on his mobile and glanced up to see him waiting as several messages arrived all at once.

‘Anything important?’ she asked suddenly nervous.

‘Cissy, and I’ll ring her…’ he looked over at Jenna, ‘Nothing else important.’ She nodded and suddenly felt the urge to get up, get away for a few moments and try to hide the emotions she knew were about to become obvious. She stood and went to clean her mug.

‘Jenna? You ok?’ Peter called from the living area.

‘Yes, fine!’ she said cheerfully and began taking Christmas food from the fridge. ‘Fine,’ she added at a whisper.

The snow might be holding them in the cottage for days. Peter’s health might keep them there a couple more weeks while he recovered; but at some point she now realised with brutal reality, they would have to leave. They had lives in London, lives, relationships, family. This wouldn’t last. Jenna could already sense a shift in Peter’s mood as he sat and read the texts from his daughter. With his phone off he could pretend everything was fine. The moment he switched it on he remembered. He was cheating on his wife. His wife who had thought he was sleeping with Jenna when he wasn’t, and now he had proved her right. His wife who apparently wasn’t speaking to him and who had cancelled the family Christmas. He had a choice of try to repair things or blow his life apart.

Jenna wiped down a counter in preparation for the big cook. She loved Peter, she was certain of that. She desired him and cared for him and wanted nothing more than his happiness and wellbeing. But what if realistically, that meant Elaine? What if it meant letting go, because she was almost certain that it would? He had never been hers to take in the first place.

Jenna grabbed a kitchen knife and began prepping vegetables. Focusing her energies on dicing them into pretty little cubes and peeling off their skins as she started another and another. She felt Peter’s hand close over hers.

‘Give it to me,’ he said good-naturedly, ’You look like your heart is breaking all those tears. You’re so small…I’m at least another foot away from the onions, they won’t make me cry as much.’

Jenna sniffed and stepped away, grabbed a piece of kitchen roll to dry her face. She hoped the tears would stop before he realised it wasn’t the onions. She wiped them away and swallowed, tried looking at the ceiling to stop them spilling again and squeezing her eyes shut but they were persistent.

‘I’m going to go sort my make-up, the onions have made a right mess,’ she said stepping out of the tiled kitchen area.

‘You don’t need to wear make-up Jenna relax, just sit around in your pyjamas all day if you want, there’s only you and me.’

She watched him scrape the onions into a frying pan.

‘No… I want to make an effort,’ she said, ‘It has to be just perfect.’

Peter looked round, eyes slightly reddened from the onion fumes now steaming below him in the pan. ‘Nothing’s ever perfect, least of all Christmas Day there is always a disaster, you can bet on it.’

‘Well I refuse to let that disaster be my face,’ she quipped.

He shook his head at her and smiled as he turned back to the cooking. ‘Ok,’ he said, ‘Aim for perfect, but I tell you now something will go wrong… undercooked turkey, over cooked sprouts, and that’s just the food. You’ll probably hate your present…’

Jenna was only half listening, ‘My present…? You’ve been housebound…’

‘There is such a thing as delivery,’ he said brushing a tear from his cheek as the onions cooked more aggressively.

‘Oh… yes… right…’ Jenna stood awkwardly in the living area. She could see Peter’s phone on the side table, switched on, LED flashing as an indication someone was trying to get a hold of him. She glanced at him again, his back still turned as he added ingredients.

She shouldn’t do this, she shouldn’t but… she just had this nagging feeling. Did Cissy know? Had he hinted? Or was Jenna complete secret to be kept from everyone else in his life. Did she want that, or not, she couldn’t tell? Would he emerge from the cottage in the new year as though nothing had happened? She was getting paranoid. Jenna tried to tell herself that he really did care. He really did love her. He’d said so and Peter was a gentleman, he wouldn’t lie. But nonetheless this was a complex situation and she had a right to feel insecure and…

Jenna darted forward quietly and picked up the phone. She checked that Peter was occupied and then touched the button to activate the screen. It had a ‘draw pattern’ security on it but she’d seen him draw it so often in the past it presented no issue. The home page appeared and with it a link to his newest texts. It would be fine. It would reassure her.

Jenna hit the icon and stared.

The text wasn’t from Cissy at all.

Elaine: _Peter; please answer, its Christmas Day. The first we’ve spent apart in 30 years. Come home, I’m back in London, it’s been unbearable without you. I promise we can fix this, I love you._

She scrolled back through the previous texts, at least two or three a day since Peter came out of hospital, none with any form of reply. What was going on? He’d told Jenna Elaine had been the one who had left, gone to Scotland to ‘think’ about their relationship after she had sussed he had feelings for his former co-star. Now it looked like she had come back, was sitting in the family home alone and he hadn’t responded once to her increasingly desperate pleas to talk. Jenna kept scrolling, searching and searching to see if he had replied to his wife at all. It was heart breaking to read the messages, some sent in the small hours of the night that read just _Please. I miss you._

And then she found one from Peter, in response to an early pleading text from Elaine, a few days after he had come to the cottage to recover, one word.

_Enough._

It was so unlike him.

‘What are you doing?’ Peter asked from the kitchen. He was leaning over one of the counters watching her. Jenna jumped, dropped the phone onto the couch, screen up.

‘I… you had a new message, I just…’ she tried to stop her voice from shaking. ‘Peter, what’s really going on, I mean with Elaine?’

She saw something pass over his face.

‘Like I said Jenna, I fell for you, Elaine discovered it, she went up north for a bit…’

‘But she’s back now, in London, has been for a while and you haven’t even spoken to her.’

He looked away guiltily. ‘I know,’ she said quietly.

‘She’s your wife,’ Jenna said, feeling an emotion that surprised her, ‘She should know what’s going on. Know about the heart attack, know you’re recovering. And she should know what you want to do with your relationship, you should talk, not keep her waiting.’

He nodded vaguely.

‘You aren’t being fair!’ Jenna exclaimed. ‘To Elaine, to me… I thought more of you than that.’ She stood before him shocked and hurt. ‘All you had to do was tell me what was going on, what you were thinking, I always knew Elaine would appear at some point…. But you kept all that to yourself. You lied! Sat on the couch not half an hour ago, you bare face lied, said she was still in Scotland.’

Peter was staring down at the counter.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly and then ran his hands through his hair in desperation. ‘I didn’t know what to do… it all felt so complex.’

‘Life _is_ complex, hiding doesn’t help,’ she replied. He looked sharply at her.

‘Says the woman who has secreted us away in a remote cottage to live out her hurt-comfort fantasy. You want us to be a cosy secret but don’t think I should keep things from my wife? How does that work exactly? Let her know half the story? Just the bits you think she could deal with? Sisterhood eh, helping her out with partial truths but sleeping with her husband at the same time? ’

Jenna flushed with anger, ‘Shut up! How dare you, after what you’ve been doing, ignoring her, your wife, your daughter’s mother, the woman who supported you all this time and you’ve not even replied to her texts…’

‘Oh for God’s sake!’ he snapped and Jenna stopped in her tracks, stunned by his outburst. Peter lowered his voice and shook his head sadly. ‘I told you things always go wrong on Christmas day,’ he said.

They stood opposite one another wordlessly.

It had started snowing again.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Day continues...

It was so quiet she could hear him breathing, heavily with emotion, leaning with both arms on the counter. Behind him, through the window Jenna could see huge snowflakes drifting thickly down, silencing the world around them. Thick deep snow, trapping them with one another and their anger between them. Jenna clenched her jaw and simmered hotly. He had lied. He had lost his temper. For a moment he hadn’t seemed like Peter at all. That was possibly one of the scariest things she’d ever witnessed.

She heard him take a deeper breath after a minute or two and he looked up at her briefly.

‘I’m sorry I shouted, it doesn’t happen often, but when it does…I’m sorry…’

‘It’s fine,’ she said tersely folding her arms. Her guard was up and she could hear it in the sharp tone of her voice.

‘No, it isn’t, none of this is fine, and you shouldn’t just say that to pacify me. This is a mess. A nicely disguised mess but one all the same.’

Jenna frowned, ‘What do you mean, disguised?’

Peter came around the counter, took a seat at the tiny table they used for meals.

‘I mean,’ he said, ‘That here we _both_ are in our fairy-tale cottage, snow falling, decorations up, declarations of love being made, but while all of that stuff is true and real, we are conveniently forgetting life outside of this bubble, outside of these walls. We are playing roles here, a game of romance, but it has to end and soon, and both of us are guilty of it. We might be snowed in now but there will be a thaw and reality to face, and we have to decide what to do when that happens.’

Jenna sat opposite him. A few nights ago they had shared a candle lit meal here. The light from the warm flame glinting off the tinsel around the room. Now the world was grey as the sun rose and fled into the sky, losing her red and gold rays and leaving behind a cooler light.

‘You mean what we do when we go back to London? If we confess? If we forget it ever happened? That sort of thing?’

Peter sat looking at his hands. ‘Yes. And in my case, do I try and repair things with Elaine? Can I get past what I feel for you enough to do that? Do I want to?’

‘Do you?’ she asked a little tremulously. Again he glanced at her.

‘I don’t know,’ he said, ‘I can’t think straight, since… since hospital. I try and work things through but my head just freezes, the thoughts vanish, I just go blank. I can’t face it, or her, I can barely raise the issue with you. That’s why I lied. I couldn’t see the expression on your face. You were so dedicated to me, helping me so much. I didn’t… don’t want to hurt you. I’m a coward I know that, and I know I lied about where she was, if she’d got in touch with me, but I didn’t want to shatter the illusion. I was happy here with you.’

‘You should have said.’

‘I know that. But its awkward, mentioning her, raising the topic when we’re sitting by the fire watching Christmas movies and eating bloody chestnuts. Tis the season to be jolly but, oh by the way Jenna my wife wants me back, she texts three times a day, I’m actually in bits inside because I don’t know what to do…’

‘It’s not like that…’

‘Isn’t it? I care for both of you Jenna. I don’t want to tell you all about what she’s doing, how she’s feeling… you’ll hurt, I’ll hurt, she’s already hurting. I just wanted to keep it all to a minimum. I kept thinking, soon, soon I will feel strong enough to address this, but I didn’t…’

‘It’s inevitable Elaine cropped up,’ Jenna said, ‘You can’t just ignore her. I understand you find it hard to think right now, but it’s worse that you lied and covered it up completely. How can I help you if you won’t talk to me?’

Peter ran a distracted hand through his hair. ‘It is not your job to help me with that question. That isn’t fair.’

‘Maybe but I don’t see anyone else here,’ Jenna said. ‘Snowed in remember?’ Her stomach churned. She had been Peter’s friend before she had loved him and she had to revert to that position now just to get through this conversation. She wondered how strong she could be. If she upright she was pretty sure the strength would go from her legs; her hands were shaking, shaking really hard. He noticed and she hid them.

‘So,’ she said taking the lead, ‘Where do you want to start?’

He sighed. ‘Well I’ll start with the truth this time. She’s in contact. But only text. She did call at the beginning but she gave up. Now it’s just messages.’

‘So I saw, but you don’t reply.’

‘No. Not to her. But I do to Cissy, she quite rightly hates me at the moment. Elaine told her everything, _everything,_ Jenna. What I said in my sleep and when we made love… she told our _daughter_ that,’ he passed a hand over his face in abject humiliation. ‘So yes I get contact from her and it’s _me_ pleading for her forgiveness.’

Jenna winced. ‘She will get there…. Eventually, she adores you Peter, you’re her dad and her best mate, it’ll come right. What about Elaine? How do you feel?’

She braced herself by examining her nails, unable to look at him.

‘Elaine… Confused. I feel confused. We were trundling along for years without much in the way of ups and downs and things had cooled a bit. It wasn’t super but it wasn’t awful, it was just life, Now I’ve blown the whole thing out the water, but…’ he hesitated, ‘I’m not sure I _want_ to go back, rather I feel I _ought_ to. People expect me too and maybe I’d find it easier. But what if life can be better?’

‘That’s not for me to answer,’ Jenna said.

‘Jenna, this has changed me,’ he said, ‘I used to be Elaine’s husband and Cissy’s father. I feel like a different man; impatient, selfish, cowardly. I feel like the clock is ticking. I feel terrified all the time…’

‘What?’ Jenna scowled at him, ‘None of that sounds like you… Maybe when you first got ill you were frightened, maybe then but you have nothing to be afraid of now. You’re recovering, the Doctor’s say you’ll be just fine as long as you look after yourself, you’ve plenty of time…’

He made a scoffing sound, ‘Plenty of time. Do you know how fast time goes? Don’t you remember working together like yesterday? Years have passed. It goes so quick. And I have to decide how to spend what’s left. Do I spend that with my wife because its familiar, do I start something new with you but die when you’re still in your prime?’

‘Stop it, you’re being morbid.’

‘Jenna I’ve been feeling better for about a week. I have had a massive brush with death. You think seven days is enough to convince me all is well, to allay all my fears.’

‘No, I just,’ she sought an example from the air around her, ‘Look at last night, how good it felt, how… normal…. You were worried about that and we proved it was ok. You’re not about to drop off the perch.’

She could see him shaking his head.

‘What?’ she asked in frustration.

‘Jenna you have no idea.’

‘So enlighten me.’

Peter sighed, put his face in his hands.

‘Remember when I first got out, how depressed I was, how I thought every missed heartbeat was my last and I was at death’s door. ‘

‘I remember, and I remember you coming through that, talking to me, sharing those worries. Why is this different? Why did you hide things from me?’

‘Because there’s so much of it,’ Peter said, ‘Because you’ve suddenly become a huge part of it since then. Because I didn’t know where to start on the problem that causes, and deep down I wanted the fairy-tale too. You and me, here, it’s a fairy-tale, but it has a shelf life and it will turn destructive to everyone around us. It can’t last. I didn’t… don’t want to face it.’

Jenna stared at him, willing herself to let him speak but not let her breaking heart show.

‘I wanted to have my midlife crisis in peace,’ he went on, ‘I wanted to grasp a holiday from life while it was still available and you represented that. I’d loved you all that time, I had to have you for my own, just for a while. I turned my phone off and hid. But as those messages show, this isn’t just about me anymore,’ he said, ‘there’s you, and Elaine and Cissy… my friends and family elsewhere, work… dozens upon dozens of people to consider. I’ve been so selfish.’

She nodded shortly. ‘Wow,’ she muttered, ‘All that floating about in your head and I thought we were having a nice time.’

‘I want to turn my head off the same way as my phone. And we were, I just can’t commit to it. Real life is trying to get back in, come January…’

Jenna looked up from her lap. ‘ _You can’t commit_ …? Well this is awkward. Christmas day, snowed in, you’re having some sort of life crisis and I’ve been told come new year, we’re over.’

He flinched and looked sadly at his hands.

‘I’m sorry…’ he said, his tone broken. Jenna looked away from him.

‘You’re sorry,’ she echoed with a dry still tone to her voice. ‘You survive your heart attack and confess you love me. You have me care for you, and worry, and reassure you. Sit with you at night when you’re ill. I nurse you through it and you help me plan a cosy little Christmas, like a proper couple. We’re intimate and it feels amazing, it gives you back your confidence and I feel proud. I was silly, but I wanted that so much, I should have looked closer. But I didn’t and its only now I see I was part of your crisis. Part of proving to yourself you’re still a vital living man. Once you’ve done that you’ll go home and say sorry to your wife, tell her what’s happened and be instantly forgiven because she will be so scared of losing you, through a heart attack or through me.’

‘Jenna no, you make it sound like I had it all planned…’

She looked back at him with a hardness in her eyes. ‘Not planned, but maybe you took advantage. Best friend, available, bit of an ego boost while you wrestle with all these feelings. I believe you when you say that heart attack has scared you, made you think hard about life, panic even, but I don’t believe it made you thoughtless. That was you, you chose how to handle things. You’re not an idiot, you must have known it would go wrong, that you’d hurt me.’

‘Jenna… I was stupid and frightened and an idiot but I didn’t design this, I’d never hurt you deliberately. Please believe me,’ he looked utterly bereft. Jenna held his gaze for a moment too long and then shoved her chair back, stood up from the table.

‘I need some space,’ she said moving to climb the stairs, ‘Just give me… some space.’

‘Please,’ she heard him stand behind her and cross the floor.

‘No,’ she had climbed midway up the stairs, ‘You lied, you were too much of a coward to tell me what was happening, your dilemma about Elaine, I feel like I’ve been used, it’s all so unlike you. Just… give me an hour,’ she finished the steps and stood at the bedroom door, calling down. She could hear him following her. ‘Go back down to the living room, Peter. We’ll talk again, I promise, this still needs sorting, but not now, I want to understand but….’

There was a crash from behind her and she spun on the spot, her eyes just catching a glimpse of Peter’s body as he tumbled down the last few steps, falling hard at the bottom and laying still. There was a beat, but no movement.

Jenna was down the stairs before she had finished screaming his name.

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I never intended for this fic to get so long or so angsty but.... its still Christmas Day and its a bit of a rollercoaster ride for Jenna

‘Peter! Peter!’ she half tripped over where he lay contorted at the base of the stairway. Jenna dropped to her knees and leaned over him, her hand on his cheek. He was unconscious but breathing. ‘Peter, can you hear me? Oh God, um…’ she looked about desperately and located her phone, back on the table, once again switched off.

Jenna quickly got up and moved to grab it, returning to Peter’s side as she tried to turn it on. She mashed the little green button in irritation. The damn thing had been off for ages with just a brief period to latch onto the internet but that seemed to have been enough to drain its battery. She let out a growl as it blinked at her and informed she had one percent power. Well one percent was better than nothing.

‘It’s going to be OK,’ she told herself as much as Peter, ‘I’ll get help, and I know you’ll hate me but you’ll be back in that hospital quicker than…’ she stopped her eyes falling on the snow outside the window. ‘Oh…’ she said and sat back on her heels, the phone lifeless in her hands as the last percentage gave up the ghost.

The cottage was as secluded as could be for the purposes of her escape to the countryside. The woodland was thick, the lanes were narrow and right now a thick fall of snow was adding to the foot and a bit which had already landed. No-one was getting out here in a hurry. She felt a wave of panic and rushed to the front door, unused since the snow had started, and wrenched it open. The downfall had piled up against the wood and now spilled a little into the house, the remainder forming a deep wall of snow where it had been pressed against the door. Jenna, small as she was would find it hard enough to walk through it never mind locate and dig out her car. Her little vehicle wasn’t designed for this type of weather.

She could feel tears of panic rising as she stood for a second looking helplessly outside and cursing the snow she had found so pretty that morning. Then she heard a noise from behind her and spun to find Peter pushing himself up by his arms, straightening his jangled legs in front of him and leaning back against the wall at the base of the stairs.

‘Peter!’

He glanced at her painfully, rubbing at his knee. Jenna joined him on the floor.

‘God, Peter you scared me, are you OK? What happened? Are you hurt?’

‘What happened?’ he echoed, ‘we had a terrible conversation, you wanted some space, I like the idiot I often am refused to give it to you…’

‘You followed me upstairs…’

‘Yes, but then I started to feel a bit odd, woozy, light headed and before I know it I’ve gone backwards.’ He stopped and put one hand behind his head, drawing it back and looking at it curiously. ‘Huh, I seem to have split my head open.’

Jenna’s eyes widened, ‘What? Let me look?’ she leaned over him again and efficiently threaded her fingers through his hair until she could see the source of the blood. It was a small gash and there was evidence of a growing lump. When her fingers touched it Peter yelped. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘It’s not too bad, but I’m worried about the faintness.’

‘Don’t be,’ he said miserably, ‘It happens, stairs are still a bit of a challenge if I take them too quickly. I have to remember to breathe and give myself a chance or things go a bit room spinny on me.’

‘You said you were fine doing stairs!’ Jenna said in exasperation.

Peter looked at her, ‘I am, sort of, at my own pace. But I can’t take them two at a time in hot pursuit of you in the middle of an argument,’ he paused, ‘That’s a step too far.’

Jenna blinked. Had he really just chosen now to crack a bad joke. ‘A step too far? Is that some sort of an awful pun?’

He held her eye cautiously. ‘Yes?’ he tried.

‘Peter you could have died, again, falling down these stairs…. And the argument we were having… well it wasn’t an argument exactly… but it was a serious topic… and now you’re sitting there with a huge bump on your head making puns about steps. Lousy puns. Puns that aren’t even funny, that no-one else would even get….’

He smiled apologetically and she felt a strange wave of relief wash over her, followed by laughter.

‘You are infuriating,’ she said, ‘And very hard to look after. And I’m still hurt and angry with you, but I’m also very relieved you’re alive. Still. Though I might have to put you in bubble wrap for as long as you are here, this is getting ridiculous. Did you hurt anything else?’

Peter rubbed at his leg again, ‘Well as usual my knee is complaining and I can feel a few bruises coming out but I think I got away lightly. After what I’ve been doing, the hiding and the lying, I probably deserved more.’

‘Shut up, I don’t want you physically harmed you moron, I just want you to be honest and… and….’

‘And?’

The memory of what he had said flooded back now she had ascertained he was relatively undamaged, and with it a torrent of sadness.

‘Am I really just a symptom of your mid-life crisis?’ she asked, the words escaping her before she could stop them. ‘It’s just something you said about wanting to stay here and have your mid-life crisis in peace.’

Peter sighed and leaned against the wall again, before flinching as the painful part of his head made contact with the wallpaper.

‘I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t think to myself ‘oh I want to feel younger and wilder, I need a younger woman, Jenna will do,’ I just wanted my life to be… I don’t know… different for a while. The show is great but you know how it gets, when you aren’t filming your private life takes a battering. You’re trying to sustain it weekend to weekend and the spark had gone out. I wanted to feel that spark again. I’d nearly died, I wanted… that excitement, that zing you only get with a new relationship. God, I’m so selfish.’

Jenna watched him carefully. ‘Yes, I think you are. At least I think you have been. You’re not the only one effected by what happened that day. I’ve been out of my mind with worry, no doubt the crew are worrying. I mean they haven’t heard anything at all. They don’t know what’s happened, if and when you’ll be back. And as for your family….’

‘I know… I know…’ he said softly.

‘Call them,’ she decided suddenly. ‘Call them both, Cissy and Elaine. Speak to them and let them know what’s gone on.’

Peter looked at her in shock. ‘What? You want me on Christmas day to dump that kind of news on them?’

‘Believe me I think both of them would rather have some kind of actual substantial contact with you, Christmas day or not. Especially Elaine. She loves you so much Peter. She must be going crazy.’

He nodded in defeat and struggled to get himself up off the floor. Jenna stood and helped him, heard him groan in pain and saw him hold his back.

‘Now you’re certain you’re ok?’ she checked, ‘Physically I mean, nothing else hurts?’

‘I’m fine,’ he said quietly moving towards the couch. Jenna returned to the stairs, she would plug her phone in and charge it in the bedroom. The whole thing had given her such a fright just as she had started to relax around Peter and not worry so much about him.

‘OK well I’m just nipping up to the bedroom, you think about calling home,’ she stopped, the word no longer applying to their cottage. She gripped the bannister and exhaled shakily and he looked around. Jenna saw him about to say something but cut him off, she just couldn’t do more talking.

‘Peter… I don’t want to argue. I don’t want to fall out. I still love you, and believe me if it could just be you and me forever and no-one gets hurt I’d grab at it with both hands but… look at us, at this. I was so angry for you saying you couldn’t commit but…. You can’t,’ she looked directly at him. ‘How can you? I’m just a tiny part of your life. You have a wife of three decades and a daughter not a million miles from my age. You have a private and public life to consider and so do I and…’

‘Jenna I could have handled the whole thing so much better.’

She chuckled, ‘Oh yes you could, I’m not denying that, but I think maybe I understand a little of the panic, of the wanting to hide. I was more than complicit with that, setting you up here, encouraging your… advances I think is the term? We’re as bad as each other sometimes, you and I.’

‘You didn’t lie,’ he reminded her.

‘No, but I chose to ignore the truth for as long as possible. We could stand here all day Peter and work out who was to blame, who was in the right, which person lied about what. At the end of the day we have feelings for one another… but those feelings don’t really fit into the world outside this cottage.’

‘So what do we do?’ he asked. Jenna saw a genuine look of confusion in his features and wished she had all the answers.

‘I guess we enjoy what’s left of being snowed in, eat our Christmas dinner, offer each other a bit of comfort and then…

‘Then?’

‘Face the world,’ she said. ‘As two separate people.’

She saw his face, already sorrowful, fall a little further. Jenna took a step up, ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

‘Ok,’ Peter turned back around in his seat and she saw him look down at his mobile. He carefully unlocked it and flicked through his contacts. Even from where she stood she could see Elaine’s photograph. Then Cissy’s. He flicked back and forth between the two and sighed.

It was like a punch in the guts as she stood there; like she was watching him leave her already, his mind on those back at home. Jenna had no idea how she would keep up the pretence of sensible decision maker until the New Year. She had no idea really why she had backed down and told him to phone his wife. She supposed she had been on earth just long enough to see when a relationship just wouldn’t work out, to measure how much hurt it would provide versus happiness. It was right that he fix his marriage, right that he at least tried. She didn’t want to stand in the way.

Jenna saw him hit ‘dial’ and made her way upstairs.

She almost wished she hadn’t. Reaching the bedroom shook her resolve. After their time on the couch together the pair of them had moved to the double bed and spent the night happy and entwined. Everything they did was paced so as not to over exert him, but that only served to add a slow and relaxed feel to their kisses and touch. Standing in the doorway now Jenna could see discarded clothing on the floor; rumpled bed sheets which had twisted around their limbs. She could smell the scent of them still in the air, rich and musky and it transported her back to being in his arms. It had only been last night.

She sat on the bed among the detritus of their evening and listened to the low tones of Peter’s voice downstairs. The thick floor muffled the actual words so instead it served as a background hum as he spoke to one or other of his loved ones. He was probably apologising, or telling them about his health. Maybe trying to reassure them.

Would he mention Jenna? Would he say what had happened between them or did last night not quite count? Did she even exist in this narrative anymore or was he closing the chapter up her own advice and heading back to the main storyline?

Downstairs she had felt as though she was in control. That it was clear what had to be done and she could be strong enough to do it. She could set an example. Upstairs in the empty bedroom things felt so different. She was attacked by loneliness, by the chill of the winter morning leeching through the beams of the old cottage. If she sat there long enough she might freeze; if she sat there long enough he might forget she existed at all.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter phones home, and it changes everything. The clock is ticking, a week and counting, but will he chose the right path?

Jenna attempted to move, dragging herself from her place and walking to the top of the stairs. Her muscles ached from sitting still and upright, her shoulders tense. She was cold and her chill drew attention to how long she must have sat. Going downstairs hadn’t been an option, at least it hadn’t felt that way, she was reluctant but she couldn’t lock herself up there all morning. She could hear the rumble of Peter’s voice as he spoke to Elaine, maybe Cissy, and it made her hesitate again. She couldn’t walk in on that, it was something he needed to do, alone, uninterrupted, certainly without the woman who was busy throwing a spanner in the works of an otherwise steady life and solid relationship. Well her and the heart attack, Jenna couldn’t take all the credit.

She loitered hand on bannister. She heard snatches of speech, the odd word, and one kept coming up.

 _Mid-life crisis_. He’d said it at least twice since she stood there.

Was that really all this was, all she was? It didn’t sit right. Not with how he made her feel, not with how he seemed with her. It felt like an easy excuse, trotted out to smooth the waters. Mid-life crisis, a silly mistake, apologised for; get over it and brush it to one side. A mistake lots of men make, one that was simply understood by all involved and simply forgiven. Oh don’t worry about it any more, it was just one of those mid-life wotsits, its done with now. Let’s move on.

She didn’t feel like one of those. When Peter had first told her of his feelings, when he had first kissed her that day he’d collapsed, when he saw it as his last chance, it didn’t feel so superficial. Jenna knew people would think he was an ill man pushing sixty wanting to live a little, they’d see him grasping at her as absolute proof he wasn’t thinking straight, but it felt more to her.

It had felt more to her last night. She could see it in him. Right? Love.

Or on the other hand she was just hoping. Maybe it was his health, his fear that had driven him from a fantasy version of her to trying it on in real life; associating feelings with her that he didn’t really have. Maybe it was her getting carried away, wanting to believe, not wanting to let go.

She listened again, the rumble had ceased. It was time to go downstairs.

Jenna crept down slowly, leaning down, trying to catch a glimpse of him before he saw her. Peter was sitting in the same place she had left him, hunched forward, phone folded between his two hands in a gesture like prayer. His fingertips touched his nose, then ran the length of it to his forehead and back. Back and forth, thinking, eyes shut. She stepped down the final stairs and he sat up straighter on hearing her.

‘Hi,’ he said.

‘Hi,’ she moved to sit beside him on the couch and he glanced at her.

‘You’ll be freezing, sitting up there,’ he said. ‘You could have come down.’

‘No, that was private, important and private,’ Jenna cocked her head. ‘You ok?’

He looked pale, the hollows of his cheeks pronounced.

‘I honestly don’t know,’ he half laughed, ‘That was one of the oddest conversations I’ve ever had.’

‘Cissy or…’

‘Elaine,’ he confirmed and Jenna's stomach twisted a little. ‘Cissy was horrified. Horrified I’d been so ill and not told her. She went right through me. Told me she didn’t care who I was sleeping with, if I was near death again she wanted to know…’

‘Who you were…. Oh…’ Jenna gawped at him, ‘I didn’t think you’d tell her.’

Peter swallowed and looked away briefly, ‘You know that stuff you said about lying, well I decided not to. Cissy is a grown woman now and she knows I’m very fond of you. I was about to tell Elaine what had been going on, Cissy would put it together. Better to just say.’

‘Did she go crazy?’

‘She wasn’t impressed, tore a strip off me in defence of her mother, which is fair enough.’

‘And then?’

He sighed. ‘Then I could hear her crying.’

Jenna winced and bit her lip.

‘And then she told me how much she hated me and I was an idiot and thoughtless and a dozen other things but… she could only tell me that if I was alive, so would I please never hide from her again.’

Jenna breathed out. ‘I think… that’s probably the best you’re going to get.’

‘I think so too, I think I got off lightly,’ Peter rubbed his hands over his face and glanced towards the kitchen.

‘So what about Elaine?’ Jenna asked. ‘You spoke and…’

‘I’m going to need fortification before I get onto that. I’m still trying to figure it out. It wasn't... the average response but she's not an average woman. And I need some time to recover too. I feel like my ears are bleeding. Elaine’s a firecracker when she gets angry, which isn’t often. And that was a mixture of tears and yelling and a few emotions in between. It's like I've run a marathon.’

Jenna watched him get up, ‘I’m not sure you get any sympathy there,’ she said.

‘No,’ he agreed, ‘probably not,’ he switched on the kettle and leaned on the counter so he could see her. ‘And what about you, sitting up there in the cold, could you hear?’

‘No,’ she confessed, ‘But I sort of wanted to.’

‘I wont keep anything from you anymore, I promise,’ she watched him ruffle his hair sheepishly, a gesture she’d always loved, this time however as he lowered his hand he pressed it briefly to his chest and grimaced.

‘Peter?’

His eyes flicked up and his hand dropped, ‘I’m OK.’

‘No lies you said,’ Jenna stood and quickly joined him behind the counter.

‘Ok, my chest's a bit tight. Not pain just…’

‘Where’s the spray?’

‘I…’

‘Where?’

‘Bedside,’ he indicated.

‘Well that’s no bloody use is it?’ she huffed and then trotted back to the stairs. ‘You can’t even begin to look after yourself.’ Jenna disappeared back upstairs and hunted about for the GTN spray. It wasn’t at the bedside and in truth she hadn’t seen him need it for a few days. The last time would be on a walk they had taken.

She glanced around the room and found his jacket hanging on the wardrobe, hurriedly patted down its pockets through the thick material. She found a lump that seemed spray shaped but when she pulled it out it was his wallet so she tossed it to one side. It exploded open on the dressing table and she cursed but in the meantime she found the GTN. She was about to leave when something caught her eye.

In the wallet there were several slots for credit cards and ID, and a special see through bit for photos. She could see that it was worn and the leather soft and loose and on impact several pictures had half escaped. Elaine looked back at her with brilliant blue smiling eyes. Cissy sitting in their garden at home. And one more. Jenna reached forward and held it in her fingertips, dog-eared and fading at the edges.

It was one of many, many shots they had taken at a publicity shoot one year, but an outtake, the pair of them laughing and mucking about, Peter’s arm around her shoulder and her holding tight to him, grinning at the camera. She looked so happy she hardly recognised herself.

This wasn’t a midlife crisis, if it was it had been going on for years.

Jenna pocketed the photo and ran back down the stairs where she found Peter stirring tea.

‘I’m OK,’ he said, ‘It’s just a bit…. Are you ok you look…’ he gestured vaguely.

‘I’m fine, take the spray… just do it Peter,’ she grumbled.

He looked at her in surprise but did as he was told before handing her a mug.

‘You know the turkey needs to go on,’ he said from nowhere. Jenna stared at him icily.

‘The turkey? You want to put the turkey on?’

Peter glanced out the window and the still falling snow. ‘That has to be two feet by now. It's Christmas day. We’re stuck and we still need to eat. I get the feeling this conversation will take a while so we might as well stick the turkey on.’

Jenna look at him in disbelief and shook her head. ‘Fine,’ the tea smacked down on the counter and she went to the fridge. ‘Turkey. On it. Start talking.’ She bent and dragged the enormous chilled bird from the fridge and dumped it on the worktop. ‘You seriously always think with your stomach don’t you?’ she asked Peter.

‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘You must be hungry too though? Do you want something while you’re doing that?’

‘Only for you to tell me what’s been said,’ she rolled off foil into a roasting tray and heaved the turkey into it. ‘Stuffing…’ she muttered.

Peter leaned near her and sipped his tea.

‘She was relieved to hear from me,’ he started, 'Said she’d been frantic, sleepless… crying. It’s not like her really, she’s usually quite stoical. She fired all these questions at me, what was going on? Where was I? Why had I dropped out of contact? I said it would be easier if I started from the beginning.’

Jenna began mashing sausage meat in a bowl with her hands. She glanced at Peter. ‘Pass me the fried onions you did. For the stuffing.’

He handed her the now cool frying pan and she scrapped in the onions, mixing them with the meat.

‘I said I’d had a heart attack. That it was pretty bad and I was in hospital a while. She hit the roof.’

‘Not surprised.’ Jenna gritted her teeth. Not for the first time she felt like she was almost on Elaine's side.

‘I explained I didn’t want to worry her, and that I suppose I wasn’t sure with things the way they were between us what she would do. So I thought I’d quietly get better while she was tending to her cousin.’

‘Let me guess she was furious,’

‘Yes, told me she’d have been straight there. And what was she supposed to do now, she’d seen the snow on the tv, she couldn’t get here now to help…’

Jenna paused and looked up at him slowly. ‘That sounded like your cue,’ she said.

‘Yes,’ he said anxiously, ‘I said it was ok, I wasn’t alone… exactly.’

‘If I were her I would so suspicious by now,’ she said honestly, ‘My husband going AWOL and then ringing me up in the middle of a blizzard to say he’s shacked up with his old co-star.’

‘That was roughly her train of thought.’

‘What did she do?’

Peter chewed on his lower lip. ‘She um… she started saying she’d known it all along, how foolish did I think she was, who did you think you were, that sort of thing. A rant…a well deserved rant but not one I could interrupt to explain anything.’

‘Like?’

‘Like how actually it had all been perfectly innocent for so long. How I’d never done or said anything until I…’

‘Nearly died…’ Jenna contributed.

‘Yes,’ Peter said.

‘Did you get to explain eventually?’

‘Yes,’ he said.

Jenna stared at him and waited. ‘And?’ she said at last.

‘She said…she couldn't tell over the phone what was real or a lie. She said there was damned all she could do about it this week because of the weather and I should do what the hell I like until new year, maybe I would come to my senses if I just got it out of my system.’

‘What?’ Jenna paused mid-stuffing the turkey. ‘Do what you like for a week?’

‘And then once the snow melts, whenever that is, she’ll drive through, meet me here, and we’ll decide together what the future will be.’

Jenna wide -eyed, felt her stomach flip at the thought of Elaine appearing at the door ready to win back her husband.

Peter fiddled with his mug. ‘She includes you in the discussions, she wants to hear your side. I mean I could be making it all up, some sad fantasy.’

‘What…?’ Jenna was fairly sure Elaine just wanted to put her in her place.

‘So,’ he said quickly, ‘We have until the snow thaws a bit and real life can quite literally get back to us. We should talk, or make a plan. Decide what to do, what we feel. I mean it’s quite possible you’ll be bored of me in a week or so,’ he laughed a strained laugh. ‘Don’t get me wrong she is raging, but I think she can also see this is all a bit precarious. If I am having a crisis I might make some snap decisions and she’s scared underneath. That there are a lot of new emotions flying about for all of us and they need worked through, no hurrying. What does she want? What do we want? Life changers.’

‘So we … talk?’ Jenna said.

‘Over dinner?’

She stared at the now stuffed and wrapped turkey feeling like the battle had already been lost.

‘I see what you mean now about the odd conversation,’ she said, ‘It’s like she’s given you free licence for this week to make up your mind and then she’ll come here, get the truth, pick you up and that’s that...’

‘Well yes and no. She’ll arrive, we'll all talk, and we will make a decision together, that's her plan. But… I do think it would be better if I spent some time really thinking what’s best now I’ve spoken with her. Not just… reacting… giving in to temptation, that sort of thing.’ He looked away uncomfortably.

To Jenna his words sounded empty, rehearsed and a little sorrowful. He was already pushing her away. One conversation with Elaine and he was retreating like a scared child. He’d misbehaved and now he promised to be good.

‘Right,’ Jenna said, trying to ignore the little twinge of hurt and rejection, ‘No… you’re right, a lot to consider, a long marriage, a near death experience. Let’s be grownups. Let’s discuss things. Your relationship, our friendship, your health. Let’s do what’s best and right, think what we want, what's fair and then when Elaine arrives…when she gets here…’ she couldn’t finish it.

Her heart sank. When Elaine got there, Jenna would lose him, she was sure of it.

They looked at each other briefly and saw the same thing reflected in both of their faces.

He was sure of it too.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A difficult conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive typos or weird autocorrect - super shaky hands :-(

Peter reached for the red wine and topped up Jenna’s glass before bringing it to the lip of his own. She quickly brought her hand down over it.

‘No,’

‘Jenna,’ he said tiredly.

‘You have to take it easy. One or two glasses, that’s it, you’re on the best part of two thirds of that bottle already.’

‘Today’s been a bit stressful,’ he said with a hint of a growl. Jenna glared at him.

‘Well deal with your stress _better_ ,’ she suggested. ‘Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t have had a heart attack in the first place.’

‘Maybe if I had none of this would have happened,’ he said miserably.

Jenna pushed her plate away still half full of Christms dinner. ‘Yes, maybe.’

‘How does it make you feel when I say that?’ Peter asked curiously. ‘You’ve been silent all through dinner. Jen I don’t want us to fall out.’

‘We aren’t falling out,’ she said, standing and collecting the plates. She noted Peter’s was almost full as well. ‘Peter you need to eat we’ve talked about this so many times.’

He sighed and leaned back into the chair. ‘Strangely I’m a little too full of nervous energy to manage right now,’ he explained.

‘You’ll manage pudding,’ Jenna said defiantly from the sink, ‘You always manage sweet things.’ She could feel him looking at her back as she took as much time as possible to scrape the dishes clean and wash them. The last twenty minutes or so had been excruciating and she needed a break.

After she had put the turkey into cook they had managed to immerse themselves in a Christmas film, each at their own end of the couch staring ahead blankly, minds buzzing, trying to think what to say, how to described their needs and wants, how to fit them with the other person’s, _what to do_. They knew they had a conversation coming up, a life changing conversation over their meal and for the full afternoon Jenna felt sick with anxiety.

When dinner was served and they had to sit opposite each other things were tough. Pleasantries and small talk were neither person’s forte and they’d certainly never had to use it with each other before. Conversation ran dry in minutes and they picked at their food. Jenna found herself chewing her thumbnail tensely and when she looked up he was mirroring her. Neither could raise the subject both of them were thinking about. She drank some wine.

‘I’m not sure I can stomach pudding,’ he was saying behind her. She contemplated forcing him, she’d put effort into this Christmas, all of it for him, to cheer him and show him the happier sides of life and it had all backfired royally. It was the most uncomfortable Christmas ever.

‘Fine,’ she said, ‘No pudding, not in the mood for it myself,’ she laid down a plate with more force than she intended and jumped at the noise it made. She had to check it wasn’t cracked. Jenna gave up on the cleaning operation too. When she turned back to the table she saw Peter slumped slightly in his seat, fiddling with his napkin in both hands. He looked terrible; she supposed she did also, she’d spent the last few hours ricocheting from anger to pain to slim hope and back again. Jenna watched him for a minute.

The weariness in his features softened her a bit. His remarks about her being part of a mid-life crisis seemed to fade. He’d been speaking to his wife, he had to give some excuse and he couldn’t exactly say he’d been in love with Jenna for years. She roundly told herself off for making excuses for him. Peter had said some hurtful things, lied and behaved in a manner most unlike him, she shouldn’t forget that just because he looked tired and lonely and… and he was crying.

Jenna froze where she stood by the sink. It was a little darker by the table but they’d lit a candle to eat by and she could clearly see the path of one tear and more above waiting to follow. Peter was still looking at the napkin, twisting it and running his fingertips over it. She could see his jaw clenching and an irregular hitch to his breath. He was trying very hard to get it all under control before she came back. He swiped his cheek with the napkin and the tear vanished.

Jenna had seen him cry since his discharge from hospital. His emotions were messed up by the heart attack and by the revelation that they loved one another, with all its implications. He was vulnerable right now, weaker than usual and frightened. He sought comfort and she wanted to give it. It wasn’t all his fault. She had known he was married and that this might get complex. She had tried to resist a little, but then she had fallen so hard and so fast. She looked heavenward for inspiration, tapping her fingernails on the counter before her.

The sound drew his attention and out of the corner of her eye she saw the napkin flash again as he tried to hide his feelings. Jenna dropped her gaze back down to meet his eyes.

‘Onions?’ she said.

‘What?’

‘From before, onion fumes still irritating your eyes?’

‘Umm…’ he looked confused, ‘Oh, yes… that… it’s….’

Jenna folded her arms and studied him for a second.

‘Its not the onions,’ he concluded. She nodded and moved to the living area, stopping to grab one of his hands and physically drag him after her to sit down.

‘I’m glad you said that,’ she said, ‘One less potential lie.’ She almost saw him flinch but she ploughed on. ‘That’s all I want right now the total truth. Even if its hurtful and not what I want to hear.’

‘Right,’ he nodded, the napkin passing back and firth slowly between his hands, folding and unfolding. She nearly took it off him but figured he needed something to hold onto.

‘We need to do this,’ Jenna said, ‘We need to talk, before Elaine comes, so we know where we stand, so that we make decisions for ourselves. Because she’s going to be so angry, so hurt, its going to be…’ she searched for the word.

‘All hell will break loose,’ Peter said, ‘she will take both of us to task. You’re right I need to know what I want, what you want, even if the two things don’t meet.’

Jenna nodded. ‘Ok… so… you start.’

‘I think it would be better if you did,’ Peter said, ‘I’m more complex. I have a family who currently hate me.’

‘You think its simple at my end?’ Jenna asked a little shocked. ‘I have a family too, maybe not kids or a husband but I have my parents, my brothers. They would all be affected if we ended up together. We’d be in the papers, they would get pestered even more than they do now.’

Peer rubbed his forehead. ‘I know, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it was easy for you just that it was more complex with me, maybe? I have a marriage and a child.’

‘Its not more complex its just different,’ Jenna said irritated, ‘I have friends too, what will they think, say? Do?’

‘Are we including male friends here, love interests?’ Peter asked.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ Jenna snapped.

‘I’m not… I’ve seen all the photos, all the rumours.’

Jenna was horrified, ‘I can’t believe you are lending any credence to them? Papers and rumours and photographs, they are just that, there’s no truth in it. Peter you know me, or at least I thought you did.’

‘Well I haven’t’ exactly been a huge part of your life recently, have I? I could be missing the essentials, like your cosy relationship with your current co-star.’

Jenna fumed, ‘Stop it, just stop it you sound like a jealous teen,’ she turned her back on him slightly as she perched on the couch.

There was a horrible pause in the increasingly heated conversation.

‘I’m sorry,’ Peter said quietly, ‘But I am jealous. Of all of them. Of Rufus, of Tom. Of anyone who shares your time, your personal space. Of anyone you speak to. I miss you Jenna, so much. I see the photos and it just brings back memories of when we were doing the rounds, the photoshoots. I see you with your dashing young co-star and it reminds me I’m thirty years older than you and I can’t…’

She looked at him again, ‘Can’t what?’

‘I can’t… give you what you need,’ he said, ‘The life you deserve. I’m hurtling faster than I thought towards the end of mine and you’re in your prime. So yes, when I see you out at parties with handsome young men, I’m jealous...’ he paused, smiled ruefully, ‘You wouldn’t have fancied me when I was at that age anyway, I’d be jealous even if I was thirty.’

Jenna turned back around. ‘Have you listened to anything I’ve said?’ she asked. ‘Have you not looked around you? Look!’ she gestured to the room, to the remnants of Christmas dinner. ‘I came to visit and I stayed when you got sick. I’ve kept this place on so I can look after you. I’ve sat with you all night when you were feverish and cleaned you up. I’ve been in floods of tears at the idea that you might be seriously unwell, or just let all this end and go back to Elaine. We’ve only been here a few weeks and it’s been some of the happiest days and the most traumatic in my life. Just hanging out with you, watching mindless tv is fun. How can you say I prefer the company of colleagues at parties? How can it even cross your mind? Isn’t it obvious I love you in everything I try to do?’

Peter was leaning on the arm of the couch, eyes squeezed shut, so Jenna took his free hand. He opened his eyes and she watched a stray tear spill from one.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I can’t think straight. All I can do is panic and worry. I know they said at the hospital I would feel like this, that my mood would be up and down and I’d fret over little things… but this is as big thing, this is what I do with my life now. I do trust you Jenna, I do… I’m sorry I made it seem as though I didn’t sometimes, I’m sorry I was jealous. But why would someone like you want to be tied to this, especially now? You were wonderful and you looked after me so well, you still are, but I don’t want that to be your _life._ ’

‘You don’t get to tell me what I want to do with my life,’ Jenna said. ‘That isn’t the issue here. The issue is what do we want? And you said I was to start. So I’m going to out it clearly. I love you, that’s the simple bit,’ she edged closer on the couch and felt him turn towards her, his defensive posture lessening. ‘I want what’s best for you,’ she said. ‘I want to be with you but if that isn’t what’s best… if that…. Causes you pain and stress and separates you from your daughter or your friends, or ruins your career or whatever the big drawback is, then I will step away.’ Jenna nodded to herself. There, grown up, rational, dealing with a complex situation.

Love isn’t rational and it wasn’t going to let go easily.

She’d been doing fine up until the moment he looked up at her and then her voice shook. She second that happened she was gone and it took her all her strength and dignity not to beg him to stay with her. She could smooth things were her family and friends, even the press, producers, directors. She was sure she could do it, right at this moment she could fix anything if he would just leave Elaine and be with her. She felt so selfish, so wrong but this was Peter, he was irreplaceable and she only had a short time with him. If he went back with Elaine, she’d probably never see him again, not like this, not in private. Now Elaine knew what had happened they wouldn’t even get to be friends.

Her mind tumbled like a waterfall, the noise of it blocking out her conscience. Yes, this was what she wanted, looking at him now, those blue eyes, the hand that held hers.

_Don’t make me give you up._

Peter nodded to himself and broke her gaze. Jenna continued to hold fast to his hand.

‘Your turn,’ she prompted, ‘Tell me what you want.’

He squeezed her fingers and sighed. ‘What I want, or need, what’s best for me, may be different from what I can have,’ he said sadly.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's about to make his decision, when events take a turn...

Jenna waited patiently, her hand still in Peter’s. He was preparing himself, she thought, for whatever he had to say, whatever he had been mulling over at dinner and earlier. Her stomach was full of butterflies, she’d laid her own cards on the table, suddenly and impulsively after swearing to herself she would take the sensible route. Now she had the feeling he was about to set her straight, slap reality down on those cards like top trumps.

‘Take your time,’ she said quietly, for want of something to say. She could hear faint Christmas music coming from the radio she put on earlier. Silence had been too painful as they had tried to eat, but the relentless cheer was almost worse.

‘Take my time,’ he echoed, ‘Maybe that’s where I went wrong, taking too much time. Maybe I should have said earlier… oh I don’t know,’ he pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘The straightforward thing would be just to go back…’

‘To London?’

‘To London, to Elaine, to the show. Just pick up where I left off forget all this…’ he let his hand drop to the arm of the couch and looked down, ‘Forget you,’ he added quietly. Jenna’s heart twinged and she went to withdraw her hand but he held tight. ‘But I don’t know if I can,’ he added. ‘No, I _know_ I can’t. Is this a mid-life crisis?’ he asked her, ‘that’s what I jokingly called it, it’s what Elaine and Cissy think and they know me best. Would I be that shallow as to want a pretty young girl to flatter my ego?’

Jenna stuttered her response, ‘I… why are you asking me?’

‘Because you know me pretty well too,’ he said. ‘I value your opinion.’

She laughed in disbelief and shook her head. ‘Only you can answer that,’ she said firmly and then hesitated, ‘Although…’

‘Although, there was this…. It made me wonder…’ she dug in her pocket and extracted the slightly crumpled photograph of herself. She looked down at it, ‘I wasn’t hunting through your wallet it just sort of fell open, and this… fell out… how long has it been there…? She turned it to face him.

Peter gently took the photograph and smiled at it sadly. ‘Oh, this… a long time,’ he confessed glancing up at her, ‘As long as I’ve known you anyway. I put it in my wallet a couple of months after we got started filming together.’

Jenna laughed uncomfortably, ‘Why?’

‘I was struggling a bit with the early starts, long days, physically I was knackered. But I wanted to do the job, be the Doctor, I want to see Daleks explode and save planets and … I wanted to work with you. If my alarm went off at four thirty in the morning and I had any doubts I’d look at that and it would give me the kick to get out of bed. You were the best person to spend the day with. Sorry if it was a bit creepy finding it…’

Jenna smiled, ‘Not creepy now I know why, just struck me as well… not something a man in a mid-life crisis does. Carry a photo for years.’

‘No,’ he said thoughtfully.

‘So not a mid-life crisis?’

‘Probably not, definitely not…’ he said. ‘Deeper than that, longer lasting, harder to leave behind.’

Jenna waited until she couldn’t stand it any longer.

‘So…?’ she said, ‘Do you do the ‘straightforward’ and go back or do you want to…’ she hesitated not quite knowing what the other option was. Be with her? Have an affair in secret? There were all sorts of degrees of relationship. ‘What do you want?’ she said at last, ‘On a simple level?’

Peter looked at her steadily, his emotions finally under control, his cheeks dry again. ‘I think,’ he said, ‘Given everything that’s happened, that maybe I need to be sensible…’

‘Sensible is so overrated,’ she said impulsively. He looked at her and laughed a little.

‘Yeah, yeah it is isn’t it?’ is said.

‘Maybe we should just run away together?’ she tried.

‘That’d be great wouldn’t it,’ he agreed.

‘Sorry,’ she whispered.

‘It’s OK, I understand, really I do, but life isn’t always able to give us what we want…’

She could feel him trying to cushion the blow, feel her hopes slipping away. Just as she’d predicted, real life, respectability, it would win out in the end. Her chest hurt.

‘So, anyway,’ Peter said, ‘I think when Elaine arrives here, once the snow’s gone, I’ll….’

The lights died above them and the radio fell silent a beat later. Jenna impulsively gripped Peter’s hand harder.

‘What?!’she squeaked.

‘Fuse?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Is there a fuse box?’ Peter asked.

‘Maybe, I don’t know…’

‘Keep calm,’ he said standing up, ‘we still have the fire and we have candles,’ he fetched the two still burning on the dining table and handed her one. ‘There’s usually a box under the stairs, hold that and light my way.’

‘Um… ok, be careful though.’

Jenna watched as Peter knelt before a little unmarked door under the stairs and pulled it open. He removed an old Hoover, a couple of pairs of wellies and guddled around the back of the cupboard.

‘Here it is,’ he said and experimentally flicked switches. ‘Ah….’

‘What?’ Jenna tried to get her voice to level out.

‘It’s not a fuse,’ Peter repacked the cupboard, ‘It’s a power cut,’ he said standing and accepting the other candle.

‘Must be the snow,’ Jenna went to look out the window but it was too dark to really see. ‘We’re miles from nowhere Peter what are we going to do?’

‘Oh you young people with your reliance on electric devices,’ he laughed and resumed his seat on the couch. ‘It’ll be fine. We just wait for it to go back on. We have food, we have a fire on, a stock of candles, it’s just a waiting game.’

Jenna hovered by the window uncertain. ‘I hate powercuts, they interfere with everything, you can’t even read.’

‘We had them all the time when I was a kid,’ Peter said, ‘It was an adventure.’

‘Yeah when you’re five.’

‘Jenna come and sit down, try to relax, why so jumpy?’

She sat, there was nothing else she could do. ‘I just don’t like losing power, its dark, it’ll get cold…’

‘Are you scared of the dark?’

‘I…. no! At least no… I’m not,’ she said outraged. Peter looked hard at her. ‘Except… well I probably would be if I was on my own.’

He smiled a little and said ‘Oh,’ nodding sagely.

‘Shut up,’ Jenna said embarrassed. ‘Anyway we were in the middle of something, important decision making. This is really inconvenient.’ She perched on the edge of the couch and folded her hands. Peter leaned forward and rubbed her shoulder before pushing himself up.

‘Where are you going!?’ she asked quickly.

He turned back towards her slightly, ‘Um… the loo? That ok?’ Peter lifted his candle and moved to the stairs.

‘Oh, right…. Will you be ok? You’re not going to get dizzy and fall? Maybe I should come with you?’

He frowned at her, ‘Jenna I’ve been fine all day, I have a lump on my head but no more dizziness, you let me go before alone… seriously are you frightened?’

‘No,’ she said quickly and sat back in the couch.

‘Right…’ he said half to himself, ‘I won’t be long.’ Peter started moving up the stairs at a mercifully steady rate she noted, but as he climbed higher the light from his candle vanished slowly until at last she heard the click of the bathroom door and darkness fell completely but for her own little candle rapidly burning down. She could get another from the kitchen but she didn’t want to move. Staring instead at the window and her own reflection.

That made her nervous, she decided. The darkness behind her own features and the flickering of the candle casting changes over the shadows. She got up suddenly and decided to go into the kitchen after all. Things were harder to find in the dark, she had got the candles out before for the meal but she had been so preoccupied she couldn’t remember where she had put them. She began rummaging through cupboard trying to find the supply she had put back.

‘Come on you can’t be far…. I only had you earlier…’ she unpacked dusters and bleach and wood polish from under the sink, the noise of her search seeming doubly loud. There was a slight gap in the back door too and she could feel the cold seeping through, and a chilly wind starting to increase its presence. ‘Brilliant, this place is great in the day, but it’s getting spooky now… of all the times to have a powercut. This really isn’t the….’

‘What are you looking for?’

‘Argh!’ she squealed and dropped a tin of polish, half falling and then spinning round into a pair of arms poised to catch her.

‘Sorry,’ he said.

‘Don’t do that!’

‘Sorry,’ he leaned across her, towards the counter and picked up the box of candles. ‘These what you wanted?’

She snatched them, her cheeks burning. He was pressed right against her.

‘Now, now,’ he said, ‘No need to be like that.’

‘Sorry, I just… I was getting a bit panicky.’

Peter raised his eyebrows at her, ‘So I see.’

‘I hate the dark.’

‘Guessed that.’

‘I mean the dark in old isolated spooky cottages cut off from everywhere, obviously.’

‘Obviously. Yeah… adds to it, I accept that.’

Jenna replaced her candle and they retreated to the living area and the living fire. She was grateful for not only its warmth but the light it shed. She re-established herself on the end of the couch she now called hers and took a sip of wine.

‘Better?’ Peter said.

‘Yeah, thanks….’

Awkwardness descended again and she almost wished the powercut would cast up other issues so she didn’t have to return to the topic in hand. He had been about to tell her his thinking in full, it had been hard enough raising it the first time and now she’d have to again. Or maybe he would. She glanced across to find him staring into his glass.

A bang from outside made her jump and she immediately regretted her wish for things to distract them. Peter looked across at her.

‘Just the wind getting up,’ he said, ‘probably. You know unless it’s a pack of wolves or a bear.’

Jenna glared at him, ‘Thanks,’ she said drily and watched him laugh.

‘Ok listen,’ he said, ‘I know we were trying to work stuff out but right now with you on edge like this, with the power off, maybe this isn’t the time to…’

‘You don’t want to make a decision do you?’ she said quickly.

‘Do you?’

‘No but I’ve laid my cards out for you, it’s only fair you do the same.’

He sighed, ‘I agree. I agree… but I’m struggling to read them myself… can we lose the cards metaphor? I’ll have to start referring to tarot or the queen of hearts or something and I’ll just get mixed up.’

Jenna snorted, looked at him sympathetically. ‘You’re just as confused as me still, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, maybe even more.’

‘I love you, that’s all I’m certain of,’ Jenna said. She felt his eyes move over her face in the candlelight.

‘I love you too, but… but you know my circumstances.’

‘I do,’ she nodded.

‘So…’ he started.

‘So I was thinking do you think there are board games? I mean this is a holiday cottage to rent, there’s always a stack of board games somewhere to entertain kids on holidays…’ Jenna rattled off her plan.

‘Board games?’ he said stunned.

‘Yeah, did you see any under the stairs?’

‘Um… actually yes… there’s Monopoly under there.’

‘Great!’ she smiled and stood up, ‘I’ll grab it and we’ll pass the evening that way.’

‘Jenna I thought you wanted to talk?’

Jenna hesitated, hovering near him, her candle in one hand flickering from the breeze that leaked through the cottage door.

‘Please,’ she said, ‘The snow’s still really deep and it’s not going to melt for a while. I don’t need to hear it yet.’

In the pause that followed Peter’s face told her everything she needed to know. ‘Ok,’ he said softly, ‘If that’s how you’d prefer it.’

She nodded trying to stave off the tears with a big smile. ‘Only way I’m going to manage another few days of a snowed in powercut with you…’ she said, ‘I mean I’ll get cabin fever anyway, but you’re _that_ annoying…’

‘Go and get the game,’ he said with a gentle smile.

‘Thanks,’ Jenna said. With her back now to him she opened the cupboard and rummaged through the items there, finding the Monopoly easily enough. She was closing it up again when something shiny caught her eye. Presents, she’d forgotten the presents, she could see the one she’d got for him hidden away but a glint of blue shiny paper indicated the other he had had delivered. She plucked them both out from under the stairs and returned to the couch, placing them in the space between them.

‘Merry Christmas?’ she said. Peter blew through his lips and pulled a face.

‘Christmas anyway,’ he said ‘Not too sure about the Merry.’

She picked up her gift and rattled it with one hand while handing Peter the one she had bought him. ‘these might cheer us up,’ she said, ‘Might as well make the best of it, as we’re stuck.’


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry to leave off where I do....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... also very sorry about typos - still got the shakes!

‘Dear God, girl, it’s a bit extravagant isn’t it?!’ Peter exclaimed on opening the box. Jenna paused opening her own gift and looked at him with tilted head.

‘Peter you think everything is extravagant; cars, clothes, take out coffees from leading coffee houses,’ she gestured and he snorted with laughter.

‘Well what do you expect?’

‘You can take the bot out of Glasgow…’ Jenna said with a small smile. ‘It’s not extravagant. I’m not exactly stuck for cash these days and I know how much you wanted it… and you’d never buy it for yourself.’

He looked at her sheepishly, ‘I might have…’

Her face fell, ‘Oh… you didn’t did you?’

‘Of course I didn’t there’s no way I’d spend that on a camera myself!’

Jenna leaned over and gave him a warning tap on his arm, ‘Behave yourself then. You can use it while we’re stuck here. Take some photographs of the snowy scenery or…’ she caught his eye and for a brief moment she saw bare desire, enough to make her hesitate and catch her breath. ‘something,’ she finished, ‘Something pretty.’

‘Beautiful,’ he corrected and then tore his eyes away, flipping open the lid of the camera’s box and poking about inside with an excited smile. Jenna watched for a moment aware her heart rate had doubled just from locking eyes.

She was delaying the inevitable, asking Peter not to tell her what he had decided, but she didn’t know how long they would be stuck in the cottage, how long she could stand it. If he had told her he had chosen Elaine, she would most likely have balled up in a corner and died quietly; the awkwardness between then would have been unbearable. This way a pretence could remain, at least one of friendship as yet unruined by what he had to say. He didn’t want to hurt her, she knew that, and it was probably the right decision for all involved, but it didn’t stop it being so painful. Jenna put it on hold and chose to try and ignore it.

It was harder to ignore when he got things so horribly right, when he proved just how well he knew her. Jenna removed the last of the blue shiny paper to reveal a perfectly square jewellery box. Again her heart tripped, jewellery sent a particular message. When had he ordered this, when had it arrived? Had he been planning to go back to Elaine then or was he envisaging a future with her?

‘Go, on,’ he said from beside her. Jenna looked up and found the camera pointing at her.

‘Put that away!’ she ordered and he lowered it with a soft pout to his lips. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I know it’s your new toy, maybe later…’

Peter tucked the camera back in its packaging and nodded at the box she held. ‘It won’t bite or do anything nasty,’ he promised, ‘Its not a joke gift.’

She laughed, ‘Good, you gave me quite enough of those when we worked together. Ok… let’s see..’ and she opened the lid. Inside she found a solid silver charm bracelet and on it seven or eight charms. She picked it out and examined each one by candlelight, the flames picking out the jewels on each one, deep sparkling blue and diamond white.

‘Peter are these?’

‘Real? Of course they are. I’m not stuck for cash either,‘ he reflected back at her. ‘I had to get them handmade anyway so I thought…’

‘Handmade?’

‘Do you think many London jewellers have TARDIS charms? Little sonic screwdrivers and sunglasses?’

Jenna giggled, carried on examining them one by one. A dalek, a cyberman, an adipose. It made her smile, wide and natural. It made her forget the issue between them. Finally she came to the last charm, two hearts overlapping each other. She passed her thumb gently over them with a twinge of the bittersweet.

‘Two hearts, like the Doctor,’ she said.

‘Or like us…’ Peter added what she couldn’t. Jenna had to work hard to keep her emotions anywhere near under control. She busied herself putting on the bracelet.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, hurriedly gathering wrapping paper in her hands and leaving the couch. ‘I’ll just put this in the bin.’

She didn’t take a candle with her, just relied on the faint light coming from the living area as she went behind the counter and dumped the wrappings. She just needed a minute, just a moment to squash these feelings, to swallow down the lump in her throat and paint on some sort of jovial enough affect to get her through the evening. From the shadows she could see Peter waiting for her, his face serious and she could tell he was thinking the same. The pair of them, acting like everything was fine so the other wouldn’t feel bad or guilty. The pair of them lying bare faced about how they felt so that the whole experience of being snowed in didn’t become some sort of weird torture device.

Jenna wiped her hands, damp with anxiety, on an abandoned tea towel and used the black mirror of the window to fix her hair a little.

Deep breath.

‘So… Monopoly?’ she called as she entered the living area again. She saw Peter snap back into role.

‘You know I’m a terrible loser at this…?’ he said.

‘You want to see a terrible loser?’ Jenna countered, ‘If there’s a competition to be had, I have to win…’

‘Or?’ he prompted.

‘Oh it gets nasty,’ she said seriously, ‘You don’t want to see it, so you’d better let me win.’ She laid out the Monopoly board in front of them and started picking out the other bits of the game; cards and little houses, red hotels. ‘What do you want to be?’ she asked holding a handful of silver counters. ‘Racing car? Boat?’

‘Neither of those is very me…’

She laughed at his mock disdain. ‘Here have the top hat then, for the proper gentleman.’

Peter sighed and his façade cracked for just a moment. ‘I’m not sure I deserve that title either,’ he said. Jenna handed him the counter and just briefly rubbed his knee before continuing to set up their game.

‘Proper gentleman,’ she said, ‘You’re doing your best Peter. No arguments.’

Thank goodness for board games was all she could say by eleven o’clock that evening. The long game of Monopoly had been more engrossing that she had thought it might be and time not only ticked but rushed by until every street on the board was bought and populated with hotels. She was roundly beating Peter, who she half suspected was letting her win, but it was so vastly entertaining to see him trudge back and forth to jail that she let him away with it. The outside world, and therefore their real lives was miles away.

‘I’m going to have to call it a night,’ Peter said, covering his mouth to hide a yawn.

‘You just know you’re about to go bankrupt… again,’ Jenna said knowingly.

‘Yes,’ he smiled and stood up stiffly, pushing himself from the couch. ‘But I’ll get you in the rematch.’

‘I’ll put this all away and then I’ll be up,’ Jenna said without thinking. She saw him hesitate at the bottom of the stairs.

‘Um…’ he started, and she knew immediately what he was about to say. The pair of them had been snuggled up together in his bed recently, after his as yet unspoken decision it probably wouldn’t be a great idea. Jenna leapt in to his rescue.

‘I mean I’ll come up to the bunk beds, soon, if you just leave your candle burning so I can see my way a bit better, I’ll put it out when I’m there.’

Peter looked at her with a mixture of gratitude and abject sorrow, nodded inperceptively and began to make his way upstairs. Jenna stood for a minute kicking herself. They’d avoided the whole business so well all evening, just friends passing time, now at the last moment she had reminded them both of what they were edging towards before. ‘Idiot,’ she grumbled as she packed the board away.

Peter was already in bed by the time she got up the courage to go up there, by the time she’d managed to get her face to behave and her story right. She’d just go up there, say a brief goodnight and shut herself into the bunkbed room. It would get easier after the first night she told herself.

She hadn’t counted on the cold. At first she stuck it out, huddled under the covers, pulling them tight around her and burying her head under them too. The old cottage however wasn’t built to be snug, at least not the area under its eaves where the little bunk room had been adapted. She could hear the wind outside and although she couldn’t see it, she had a good idea now of what the snow was doing, lying thick and deep, no sign of the melt yet, but ensuring a constant chill in the air that was bitter enough to make her bones hurt. At one am she checked her phone and saw the time, realising she had as yet not slept at all. Her overly busy mind and the cold was making it impossible.

There were extra blankets in Peter’s room left from when he was really ill. Jenna carefully and silently slid from her bed onto the freezing floor and padded to her door, easing it open as quietly as she could. The room was dark, but she knew the blankets were on a chair by the window so she felt her way long the wall blindly. She was getting colder by the second and she briefly wondered if Peter was warm enough; he couldn’t afford to get cold, but the room was peaceful and there was no sign he was struggling to sleep.

She figured she had to be almost at the chair when she took s step forward and stubbed her toes on one of its legs. She let out an involuntary yelp and stood hopping for a moment trying to be quiet. The pain shot right up her leg.

‘Jenna?’

‘Sorry…. Sorry… go back to sleep.’

‘What are you doing?’ he asked mildly amused.

‘Getting a blanket,’ she groped to her right and found one on the treacherous chairs seat. ‘Got it… sorry I walked into the chair, no slippers…’

‘Ouch.’

‘Yeah exactly,’ she began to grope her way back to her door, ‘Now go back to sleep.’

‘It’s cold,’ he remarked. Jenna stopped.

‘Do you want a blanket too?’ she offered half turning back to chair.

There was a slight pause and a hesitation in his voice which showed his nerves when he did finally answer.

‘Hot water bottle?’ he queried. Jenna almost reminded him there wasn’t one and then the penny dropped. This time it was her turn to stand there silently unsure how to answer. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said rapidly, ‘That was wrong of me, I’m so sorry Jenna.’

‘I… I thought you’d decided,’ she started.

‘Oh I don’t know what I’ve decided, what I’m really thinking. It’s all just a horrible mess,’ she heard him say, cover rustling. ‘I just said that because… I don’t even know why, it just came out. It seems so silly. You slept here last night, and now you’re next door freezing… I’ve been lying here wishing I could call you back through…’

‘I thought you were asleep?’

‘No….’

‘Peter!’

‘It’s cold and I missed you,’ he protested. ‘This whole thing is messing with my head,’ he said, a trace of desperation in his voice. Jenna felt herself drawn across the room, arms outstretched trying not to bump into anything. Eventually she came up against the bed and stood there uncertainly. She heard Peter draw back the covers.

‘Please,’ he said softly, ‘We have until the snow melts.’

‘We don’t know how long that is,’ Jenna said cautiously. ‘Could be just a day or two.’

‘Could be weeks,’ Peter said. ‘But its definitely not melting any time tonight. Jenna…’ he breathed.

What the hell. She was going to lose him the moment Elaine appeared. He was going to go back to his marriage for everyone’s sake except perhaps his own; except hers. Why shouldn’t she have some memories, some comfort? Why shouldn’t she lay claim to him as her just this once. She was tired of arguing with herself and trying to be right and moral. At this moment all she wanted was to crawl under that duvet and wrap herself around him, warm and safe and _his_.

Jenna felt her way onto the bed and the covers closed over her. She wriggled and came up against his body, so warm under the sheets. With her arms snaking around him she settled her cheek against his chest and listened again to his heart beat, squeezing him tight as he dropped a kiss to the top of her head. She tangled herself as completely as she could in his embrace.

A few minutes passed in cosy bliss and Jenna felt him shift under her, tilt her slightly to one side and bring himself more level with her face. Sleepily she opened her eyes to find him in the dark, watching her quietly, holding her close. She smiled and he kissed her softly on the lips just once. She could feel his body pressing closer to her and her own reacting. As best she could she tried to transmit her need to him without demanding, without frightening him off or pushing him away. It was complex, the feelings involved, his physical state after the heart attack, she didn’t want to pressure him. She gently stroked her hand down his side, rested it on his hip, felt his body respond.

And then he surprised her.

‘You and I,’ he said, ‘We don’t have much time to be like this… Let me make love to you.’

'Like a proper gentleman might?' she asked teasingly, trying to hide her nerves.

She heard him laugh, put on a cockney accent, 'Like a proper gentleman, miss.'

 

 

 

 

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut. Smut smut smut. Peter and Jenna begin their night together.

He leaned in again in the darkness, and found her lips, played them softly against his own with aching tenderness; a long slow kiss that pulled her body, magnetic, to his. The last traces of cold left Jenna as he enveloped her, cradling her as they lay side by side, his arm hooked under her head to provide a warm pillow as their kiss continued. She raised her legs, slotted one between his and let the other rest over his thigh, the sole of her foot rubbing gently at the back of his calf.

Peter broke the kiss with a fit of giggles and Jenna stared hard at him in anxiety.

‘What? What is it? What’s so funny?’

‘Your feet are freezing,’ he said amused but kind, ‘I can’t believe you stuck it out in there for so long.’

‘Oh,’ Jenna felt herself smile, ‘Yeah. I didn’t quite know what to do, if… if I asked if you’d say yes or if I’d be sent packing.’

A sharp sigh, ‘Like I could send you packing.’

‘No offence, but that’s sort of what you’ve decided to do when we leave here.’

There was a horribly tense pause and Jenna’s felt herself begin to panic. Why had she said that? Here they were cuddled close, feeling wonderful and she had to say that didn’t she? It seemed Peter was of the same mind. After an agonising minute she heard him draw breath, felt him flip back over onto his back, breaking most of their cosy contact. All her hope seemed to leech out of her at once and she felt the cold start to creep back without his body next to hers.

‘Jenna, can we just not… none of this is easy. I don’t want to ‘send you packing’ believe me but I really don’t see another option. This isn’t a game, please don’t speak to me like I’m playing one.’

She could hear something very raw in his voice and cursed herself and the whole situation. She couldn’t leave it alone. She was an actress, why couldn’t she just pretend, make believe for one bloody night, would it kill her to live the lie just for a few hours?

‘I’m sorry…’ she whispered, feeling small, ‘I’m really sorry. Do you want me to go back next door, I could take the blanket and…’

‘No! Jenna that’s the whole point that’s exactly what I don’t want you to do!’ it wasn’t anger it was frustration, with the whole situation, but it stung her nonetheless.

Silence again, the sound of uncomfortable irregular breathing, and for Jenna a sliver of fear. She was messing this up so badly it could all unravel. She could lose everything she valued about their relationship. She crept closer to where he was lying, the arm that had supported her head now slung across his face, but as she came in line with his body, she pressed herself against his side and felt it lower again and wrap itself around her ribcage. Peter held her close and she crawled up him, brushing against his pyjamas with her bare feet again. He jumped a little.

‘I’ve warned you about that,’ he said, making a real effort not to resume the earlier line of conversation. Jenna took the hint as an instruction to please do the same. Please. NO more talk of the future. No more questions. Just now.

‘They won’t get warm unless you help,’ Jenna said, ‘Neither will the rest of me.’

‘You seem quite warm to me,’ he said a little more relaxed, a little more playful, and she felt his hands slip under her pyjama top, warm dry hands, incredibly soft, big enough to almost encompass the whole of her back. ‘Warm and tiny,’ he hummed, running his hands back down again at a slow pace, a steady pressure behind them. Jenna sighed and nuzzled his chest as his palms reached her hips and his fingers slipped under her bottoms. He allowed himself a moment to stroke and caress the muscles there, rounded and firm and she heard his breathing pick up just slightly. His hum turned to a low growl which sent shot upon shot of arousal through her body. She could feel him kneading her flesh more firmly, clearly stimulated.

Jenna pressed her hands to his ribs and her face to his chest, dropping open mouthed kisses to his skin where it was exposed. She felt impatient and undid the buttons of his top quickly so that she could run her fingers over him in long swathes. He was lean overall, but there was evidence that until his heart attack he had worked out for the show. She pushed back the material and encouraged him to twist free, casting the item away to the darkness. Again she kissed the muscle she found and then ran her hands to his stomach. Peer made a short gasping sound when her fingers landed at his waist and she felt him wriggle to get away.

Jenna laughed and insisted on rubbing where he was ticklish, on dipping down just under the covers to kiss there too, the slight softness inviting and warm. He protested loudly at first, with cries of ‘No!’ and ‘Jenna don’t!’ but he quickly abated, breathlessly giggling for a while before his laughter turned to pleasured sighs. She kissed below his belly button and below that where a tantalising trail of soft hair began. She couldn’t resist but to follow, dismissing the idea she might be going too fast for him. Instead she peppered the trail with tiny kisses and nuzzles until she was forced to stop at the waistband of his pyjamas. Jenna placed a hand at the top of one of his thighs and stroked, aware of the response nearby, the twitch she could feel beneath the hot material and the strain it was now under. Above her she heard Peter let out an involuntary moan between the soft sighs he had hitherto produced.

Jenna ran her hand up and over the shape of his cock hidden by the cloth and Peter’s back arched as he groaned louder. She bit her lip as her fingertips played with his waistband. She was so tempted to just go for it, to just pleasure him all the way to his conclusion. She squeezed and touched again, felt the material grow damp and Peter’s hips press up into her palm urgently. Making her decision she hooked her fingers under the elastic and pulled.

‘Jenna!’ a shocked voice from the pillow exclaimed. She giggled.

‘Sorry should have warned you,’ she said. ‘But I didn’t think you’d mind.’

‘I um…’ he sounded flustered, ‘Can you breathe under there? I mean… I don’t want you suffocating.’

‘Shut up!’

‘I’m serious,’ he said, ‘I mean you might…. Ah….’ his concerns seemed to leave him as Jenna’s tongue made contact with his skin. She ran it gently down the length of him a few times, painfully delicate, light in her touch. She was enjoying teasing him, smiling to herself at his responses when he caught her off guard. Peter’s hand found her under the covers and for a moment cupped her face, running his thumb across her cheek as he whispered her name softly. The sound of it almost brought tears to her eyes. It knocked her off her rhythm. She took his hand and kissed the palm, traced a shape with the tip of her tongue and suck slowly on each finger. She took all the time she could, repeated his name as he had hers and finally released him.

Returning to his belly, she wrapped a hand around him again. Jenna took him fully into her mouth and began in earnest to work him.

In the dark the scent of him was hot and musky, mixed with his citrus aftershave, and absolutely intoxicating, intensified as it was under the sheets. His skin was soft and his cock hard in her mouth and hands as she ran her tongue around its head and flicked it across the very tip. However, it was the sound of him that made her wet and heated, squeezing her thighs together as she listened to him moan, gasp and plead. At first he tried to contain himself but soon she had him begging her to let him finish. It was so tempting, the thought of him vulnerable that way, trusting her enough to let himself go. She increased the grip she had on the base of him and altered the angle of her mouth, letting him move deeper inside her. Sure enough she heard a change in his tone, pitched high, he was surely close. He was going to let her go for it, she could feel it, and her chest felt warm with pride.

‘Stop!, Please, oh God, stop,’ she felt his hand clasp her shoulder and she pulled back. There was such urgency to his voice she sat right up taking the covers with her. She scrabbled to get them free and grabbed one of his hands. He gasped for breath and made a pained sound.

‘Are you are OK? Peter? Did I do something wrong? Hurt you? Oh God it’s your heart…?’ Jenna scrabbled forward. ‘Where’s your spray?’ She could hear him panting, the odd tiny gasp still present.

‘No… Jenna… not my heart…. Not like that anyway…its fine.. I’m fine…’ he managed between pants, ‘I just… not yet, I can’t just yet…’

‘You seemed like you could… are you stuck?’ she asked openly, ‘is there something you’d like me to do to help… or we could do what we did the other night, you can help?’

‘No… Jenna… relax… its not that. Believe me it’s not that, I’m almost there…’

‘Then…?’

‘Jenna, I want to make love to you,’ he explained patiently, ‘I can’t do that if you finish me off like this. No matter how much I might want you. Which incidentally I do, because… dear god…’he trailed off a little dreamily, his breathing slower than before but still accelerated.

Jenna started giggling. ‘That good huh?’

‘…yes…’ he breathed. ‘Really, very good…’

‘Sure you don’t want me to just…’ she leaned back down and breathed slowly over his aching cock. Peter moaned and fisted the sheets to either side of him.

‘Please, I’m so close, any more of that and…’

Jenna had been watching him, her eyes adjusting just slightly now to the dark and enough starlight reflecting from the snow outside to their window for her to see just a little. He was sprawled out in the centre of the bed, tense, his neck arced, his eyes squeezed shut with a frown of concentration. Peter’s chest and belly were tight and below that she could see him straining, thick and hard and inviting. Before he could finish what he had to say about the matter Jenna dipped down again and took him quickly into her mouth, swirling her tongue fast around the head and then pointing it, pushing against the slit where he was leaking against her tongue, bitter and copious. He was right, he was incredibly close and she had a brief thought that even if she had stopped, he would have been left tormented, maybe even come in an unsatisfactory way with little stimulation, because it felt like he was at the point of no return.

In response to her decision to finish him Peter jerked hard on the bed with a cry of ‘Jenna, what…?’ she would brook no arguments however and sucked tight on him to trigger his orgasm. Peter’s voice lost the ability for words but instead climbed in pitch as he cried out until at last, well under a minute from when she had resumed, he spilled suddenly into her mouth with a sharp yell.

Jenna milked every moment of his release as she heard him moan and his tension deflate above her. He seemed to turn to jelly as she pulled away and ran her hands over his abdomen, up over his chest and brought herself to lie beside him. He immediately brought her closer with a contented growl in his throat. He smelled of fresh perspiration and sex. Jenna allowed herself the treat of allowing her tongue to map his neck, lapping at the damp and salty skin. He tasted so good, and his scent set off every hormone in her body. She felt she had never wanted anyone more.

‘You shouldn’t have done that…’ he said unconvincingly, breaking into her desirous thoughts.

‘You were enjoying it… a lot,’ she explained. ‘You deserved it.’

‘God I hope I can recover…’ the doubtful tone warned her that he could potentially feel bad for giving in the way he had so she rubbed his belly reassuringly.

‘We’ve got all night,’ she said ‘And in the meantime there’s something I’d like you to do, for me? You know like the other night?’

In the moonlight she saw him smile to himself, eyes shut. ‘Oh?’ he teased, ‘Demanding little thing aren’t we?’

‘No!’ she prodded his stomach, ‘Well maybe a bit, but whose fault is that, laid there all sexy and debauched. I need you,’ she whined playfully.

‘Give me five minutes,’ he said.

‘Peter!’

He burst out laughing and opened his eyes, ‘Ok, ok,’ he rolled Jenna so that he had her pinned under him and kissed her deeply for a moment, pulling away with her hungry for more. She ground her hips up against him desperately.

‘You’re supposed to be a gentleman!’

‘I am a gentleman!’

‘Well help a girl out then!’

More laughter and then it was catching. Jenna found herself a giggling, turned on, emotional mess. There were tears in her eyes and she couldn’t tell if they were from amusement, frustration or unhappiness at what she knew was around the corner of their relationship.

No, no thoughts like that now. Peter’s mouth was at her neck, suckling and nipping, his hands wending their way over her body, down towards their target. No, no thoughts like that now, no thoughts at all.

His hot mouth on her sex.

Whiteout.

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst - smut - angst in that order.

‘Oh… my God,’ was about all Jenna could manage in the minutes that followed. She could feel Peter’s gentle butterfly kisses on the inside of her thigh, slowly making their way over her hip bone. When he nuzzled against her she could sense his stubble, or the soft silver curls on his head quickly followed by the warmth of his lips. He took all the time in the world to congratulate her exhausted body on its heated and impassioned performance, kiss by slow kiss.

She wasn’t entirely sure how much time had gone by since he had steadily guided her towards her peak and let her stay there, delightful second after second, almost agonising in its intensity. She’d seen plenty of movies with what she thought were unrealistic and gratuitous sex scenes, women thrashing around and moaning, screaming out their lover’s name, but moments into her release she realised she was doing just that; unable to contain herself, her body dictating the rules while she cried out helplessly into the moonlit room.

Peter finished his methodical climb back up her torso with a kiss to her collarbone and neck, more or less where he had started his fun. He leaned on one elbow and looked at her with a sense of pride, a tiny smile on his lips. Jenna rolled onto her side, her body feeling at once light and floaty, and drained and heavy.

‘hello,’ she said.

Peter laughed at the tone of her voice. ‘You sound like you’re on a cloud.’

‘I am,’ she confirmed. ‘That was…that was amazing. You’re amazing,’ she shut her eyes and let the floaty feeling win, ‘You’re so good at that. You know… if you need more time…you know to recover or… just in general you know… with the heart thing… til you get your strength up… I’m quite happy as I am… no pressure here at all…’ she trailed off sleepily.

Peter giggled and she felt him sweep her disarranged hair from out of her face. ‘Thanks,’ he said, ‘I’m reassured. It’ll keep you ticking over until I can do the deed properly..’

Jenna opened her eyes slightly horrified, ‘No, no I didn’t mean it like that, I genuinely…’

‘Relax,’ he said smiling, ‘I know what you mean.’

Jenna felt her panic deflate a little, ‘Phew, good, because… well it’s a delicate subject isn’t it? I don’t want to make you feel… like I’m sitting here tapping my fingers impatiently or anything.’

‘I don’t,’ he confirmed.

‘Ok.’

‘How do you feel about sleep?’ he asked.

‘Reluctant,’ Jenna admitted, ‘But necessary.’

‘Good… I’m knackered,’ he admitted, ‘Not quite got my stamina back, sorry,’ he looked sheepish.

‘It’s OK, I promise,’ Jenna kissed him softly, ‘like you said the snows not going anywhere tonight, it’s just too deep, we’ve got time. Sleep, recover…’ she pulled back and turned around in his arms.

‘Where are you going?’ he asked.

‘I’m the little spoon,’ Jenna said through a yawn.

‘What?’

‘Spooning.’

‘Spooning?’

‘Never mind just cuddle into me.’ She curled into a ball and pushed back against him encouraging him to wrap himself around her, ‘best way to keep warm,’ she added.

‘For you, yes,’ he scoffed and pulled the covers properly over both of them, they were s mess, tangled and squint, refusing to lie quite flat. Jenna smirked contentedly and felt him settle behind her lips pressing to the nape of her neck and then in hair before he finally got comfortable.

He was exhausted, she could tell. Years of working with him at the hectic pace that only Peter could manage and made her spot the signs easily. First he slowed up, then his brain failed to compute simple things like the spooning idea, as though he couldn’t process ideas or information anymore. Then he became prone to powernaps. Naps that could come over him so quickly it took people by surprise. At lunch he’d take them in his trailer, but if things were slow on set for a while and he was sitting waiting he could drop off mid sentence.

Sure enough Jenna was about to reply to him when she heard his breathing deepen and slow. At the same moment there was a shift in the distribution of his weight behind her and she knew his body had slumped into sleep. She smiled to herself and rubbed the arm that held her across the stomach. He roused just a little and mumbled before passing out again.

Jenna lay staring at the clear sky outside. Clear skies usually meant frost. Frost meant no melting. This was good. She was beginning to wish there was more snow to come, not just what had already fallen. If the sky was dark and moon obscured behind a cloud, then that cloud might drop inch upon inch of fresh snow each day that passed. Roads would never be fully cleared or safe. Peter and their cottage life would have to stay put indefinitely.

At the same time living in snowed in limbo was torturous. Tonight had been incredible, and she suspected there was more of that to come, but it had to end at some point. It was like waiting for exam results, she wanted it done with, but she knew the rest of her life sort of depended on it. It could only be days away, this point in time everything hinged on, and it hung in the air, every moment, until she felt she couldn’t breathe.

Jenna closed her eyes and concentrated on the feel of Peter behind her, his steady breathing, his warmth and his embrace. She had to remember it in every detail, just as she had been trying to remember everything about that night.

 

As though to further prove his exhaustion, Peter was still in the same position when Jenna woke around eight the next morning. The sky was just beginning to lighten a little more and the room appeared grey. Reality was seeping back in without permission. Jenna very purposefully refused to move at first, warm and comfortable against him, but eventually she had to. She slowly pulled back the covers so as to not disturb Peter, and slipped to the bathroom.

Her reflection in the mirror as she washed her hands made her laughed to herself, her usually perfect sleek brown hair in total disarray, and a distinctive glow to her cheeks. She padded back to the bedroom door and peeked in, found that Peter had sprawled across the bed searching for her but managed to remain asleep. There was now no way she could slip back between the sheets subtly so she took the opportunity to go downstairs. They would need breakfast before the day she had planned.

Jenna’ felt giddy, that was the word she was looking for as she quickly went down the stairs dressed in her robe. She paddled over to the kitchen and began rummaging for food, humming, singing snatches of songs, half dancing to herself as she switched the kettle on and put bread in the toaster. Being with Peter always made her happy but this was another level. She was properly elated, full of confidence, joyful.

She grabbed some orange juice while she waited for the coffee to percolate, suddenly so thirsty and then a thought struck her.

Did Elaine feel like this all the time? Was she elated by the Peter effect too or had it all worn off years ago? Is this how she had felt when they had both got together all that time ago? The feeling was an odd one.

‘Stop that,’ she said to herself. Jenna pushed the thought, and others, aside. At least she tried to, but it kept pushing back in as she prepared breakfast. Finally she spread it all out on a tray and went back upstairs.

In the bedroom Jenna set the tray down and stood watching Peter for a long moment, now on his stomach with his arm flung out over where she had been. He looked younger when he slept, relaxed, although the odd snuffling noise which threatened to turn into a full blown snore amused her deeply. She would have to tease him about that later. She poured herself a cup of coffee from the cafetiere she had filled and hovered.

She didn’t want to wake him just yet, he looked comfortable and peaceful and they’d been awake til late, or in reality early. She could make fresh toast if it went cold, it was more important he slept and recovered and healed. She nodded to herself, she had to remember he was seriously ill just a few weeks ago and he needed rest. He’d joked about her being demanding, maybe she was? No, he hadn’t meant it but she did need to bear it in mind. Be sensible. He was worn out after last night. He had a heart condition. She should ease up, just a bit, let him decide what and how often, and let him sleep in if he needed it.

Jenna took her coffee to the window and looked outside. Everything was still white and mostly unrecognisable as the snow lay so deep over objects. She tried to spot what they were while she waited. Her car was the easiest, a huge mound in the drive, but there were other lumps and bumps, not to be confused with drifts the wind had caused to stack up around the cottage. She sipped her drink and spotted what had been a bird table, now not only frozen and useless but covered in an eight inch blanket of snow. Birds still landed in its vicinity but there was nothing for them. They flew off again, hungry. Jenna made a mental note to put out some stale bread.

What else? Trees, branches and leaves heavy with white powder. The footpath, unable to be walked. The dustbin, now just a huge mound, some garden tools, long handled, leaning against the house but almost totally buried by a drift.

No-one was going anywhere for a while. Jenna smiled a little guiltily, just a few days, that’s all she wanted.

A horrifically loud rumble above her made her jump and coffee slosh down over her robe. She quickly pulled it away from her burning skin and yelped. Meanwhile the rumbling, grinding sound continued and she could actually feel the vibrations coming through the roof and down into the structure of the building. It felt like the whole place was going to fall apart.

‘Shit!’ she grabbed a discarded towel from the chair and dabbed at the stained robe while stepping back from the window nervously, still trying to see the source of the sound.

‘What on earth is that?’ Peter sat up in the bed, his arms casually hanging over his bent knees. He was peering up at the ceiling which was still giving out the odd little rumble.

‘I don’t know, it made me jump…’

‘You Ok?, coffee? Did you burn yourself?’ he asked, sliding out of the bed and pulling on his own robe.

‘I’m fine I think.’

‘You should take that off…’ he said without thinking as he looked through the window. Jenna smirked slightly and he caught it, smirked back.

‘I don’t mean like that, I mean in case it’s still burning hot. What am I going to do with you?’

‘I have suggestions…’

‘Jenna I’ve only been awake two minutes.’

She rounded on him, creeping into his arms and looking up at his face. His stubble had grown out and added to his usual attractiveness. She felt his hands slide over her robe to where it was stained and dip under the tie, ready to open it. Jenna bit her lip. Just that action had returned her arousal. The sudden noise on the roof was just as quickly forgotten.

‘Two minutes is plenty of time,’ she said playfully, ‘And anyway I want to make use of this,’ she pushed against his hips where she could feel his morning erection was still present.

Peter’s breath hitched a little.

‘Oh…’ he said, ‘I suppose at my age I can afford to waste it…’

Jenna laughed, ‘I didn’t mean that!’

‘I know, I know,’ he grinned and pushed his hands under the edges of her robe, massaged her breasts as he found them and let all the material fall away. Jenna felt a frisson of pure cold alongside desire as he bent to kiss her. In revenge she quickly undid the tie on his dressing gown and stripped him naked.

There was an edge to his kiss this morning that was new. Until now he had been slow and thoughtful for the most part, deep kisses, erotic touches, sensual in his approach. Today he seemed needy, his cock straining against her already and his arms holding her tight to him as his tongue entered her mouth again and again, lips nipping hers, dropping to bite a little at her neck.

Peter grunted and half spun her so that she was in front of the bed before toppling her onto the mattress and crawling so that he was over her. She instinctively opened her legs as he kissed her harder. Jenna felt herself flood with liquid fire as he moved his hand to her sex and began to work a circular pattern to the rhythm of his own hips. She could feel him thrusting unconsciously against her until he broke the kiss and panted a request.

‘Jenna, god I want you, please…let me… let me have all of you….’

She hadn’t expected him to ask consent that way, or for his voice to be so deep and earnest and so aroused. It sent her head spinning and she nodded, fumbled a ‘Yes,’ in response and kiss him hard while reaching down for him. Finding him there, rigid and heated, damp in her palm, she pumped him as he thrust into her fist unable to help himself. He groaned deeply, just by her ear and the vibration made her skin tingle. She had to have him enter her, now.

Jenna positioned him and he took the guidance quickly, pushing into her with a gratifying moan. He filled her and immediately hit the deep area that brought her so much pleasure. Now it was her turn to let moans and pleas spill from her as he began his pace slow but soon succumbed to a fast and desperate pattern. For Jenna as much as for him, it was what she needed. She ground her hips up to meet each thrust and dug her nails into his back, gripping hard, feeling a tight ball of excitement build in her body. She was getting close fast and she could feel the same in him.

Peter’s breathing was ragged and all of a sudden he broke off, stopping, pulling back until he slipped out of her and shutting his eyes tight.

‘Peter?’ he worries about his health came back to her. ‘Are you ok?’

‘I’m fine, I just…. I need to calm down for a second…’

Jenna bit her lip and reached for him, encouraged him to open his eyes.

‘You really don’t, you know, it’s ok, I’m not far behind you…’

Peter crawled back to her looking slightly ashamed. ‘You just have this effect on me, its like I can’t stop myself.’

Jenna began to laugh, ‘I am strong with the force,’ she said. Peter rolled his eyes.

‘Please do not do Yoda when I’m trying to shag you,’ he said.

She opened her mouth to make another joke but wasn't quick enough.

Jenna’s squealed as he pinned her back down to the mattress mid giggle. He kissed her quiet and then entered her with a sharp exclamation, immediately setting her on fire again. Jenna gasped softly and felt his hand slip between them as their motion began again. This time he didn’t stop or try to prevent himself from letting go. Jenna felt his fingertips working small circles and short lengths between her folds, while her muscles tightened around each thrust. She was building, building, listening to his breathing get faster, more desperate, pause entirely at time while he grit his teeth and closed his eyes above her.

From nowhere he started speaking her name, using it as a plea, in the seconds before orgasm hit.

‘Jenna, Jenna, Oh God, please, I have to… I love you… I’m ….’

A wave of release hit her just as he stiffened and came inside her. Jenna clung to him as they shared each surge of pleasure, then slowly withdrew far enough to look up at his face. His eyes were still shut but he was relaxed now, smiling. Oh just to stay in that moment forever. She touched his cheek softly and he nuzzled into her hand.

Another heavy rumble from above them made her jerk in surprise and Peter looked upwards for a moment.

‘I think I know what it is,’ he said quietly.

‘Really heavy birds? You know stamping about on the slates?’

‘Sadly no,’ he looked down at her with a bittersweet expression. ‘It’s the snow, it’s starting to melt, what you can hear is it shifting, tumbling down the sloped bits.’

‘So the first bit to go…’

‘Comes from the roof, from the heating in the cottage,’ Peter confirmed. ‘But what it means is, it’s started Jenna, the thaw. Soon it’ll be the snow on the trees, the ground…’

‘The roads,’ she said looking at him, feeling sick and cold and nervous.

‘The roads,’ he replied sadly. ‘It might take a couple of days yet but…’ he fell silent.

Elaine was on her way.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elaine's arrival is imminent.

‘Please don’t,’ she heard his voice behind her, ‘Come and sit down, you’ve been staring down the path half the morning.’

‘That’s because there is now a path to stare down,’ Jenna replied, ‘What with the snow melting. She can’t be long now surely?’ She resumed leaning against the back door frame, watching the slow progress of the snow to slush to water. Not slow enough. Slow enough would be not melting at all. For at least a year. But luck was against her and Peter and time was running out. Elaine was minutes away now.

The power had come back on in the small hours of Boxing Day unbeknownst to the couple sharing heat in Peter’s bed. She hadn’t realised its significance in the big melt until Peter explained that the rising warmth had begun to melt the snow on their roof, causing it to tumble free. They peeked outside and saw the trees dripping just a little and indicating that overall things were warmer. With the power back on and the house cosy, belting out heat through the gaps in its slates, the weather followed suite frighteningly quickly. The snow which had been lying a foot deep in parts just faded away before her eyes. It rained and dissolved further and then before she knew it the path was visible as were the wheels of her car.

Her car. Everyone’s car. Elaine’s car in London. Jenna watched the news for the extreme weather reports the British loved so much. London was clear of its few centimetres of snow, and now Wales, hitherto drowning in the stuff, was getting moving again.

It was only a matter of time. The world had given them enough privacy. No more was owed.

The phone started ringing, for both of them. It wasn’t exactly a surprised they’d been hiding now for weeks. Peter’s doctor wanted to give him a check up, which Peter wanted to delay but Jenna wouldn’t hear of. She offered to drive and he gently reminded her that he would see his own GP in London soon enough. Jenna felt the information punch her in the guts, managed to look him in the eye for a moment only and then busied herself elsewhere. She could see him cursing himself alone in the living room but she couldn’t bear to go back in. London and his decision was too much to think about.

The show phoned too, for Peter. How was he doing? Would he be well enough to come back to filming? They had decided to split the series into two parts, give him a break, they really wanted him back. Jenna sat on the arm of the couch and listened in, watched Peter’s doubtful expression and apologetic manner transform. They really did want him to continue, it wasn’t a joke. He should go down to the studios now the snow was melting and he was feeling better and talk to the team. It’d be OK.

Jenna’s phone buzzing. Her parents wondering just what was going on this Christmas and was she spending it with the rich and famous; if so could they have the gossip. Jenna listened to her mother’s enthusiasm and wished above all else she could share what was really happening. Instead she spoke of just needing some downtime after such a hectic couple of years. Her mother didn’t believe her, she knew that, she could fool a lot of people but never mum. She heard her say to phone her if she wanted another chat, or to just come home if things were too much. Jenna held her breath and tried hard not to cry. In the living area she watched Peter sitting in one chair, thoughtful and far away, wondering, she knew, just how in hell the next few days would go, watching the clock, waiting for their visitor.

Finally _Victoria’s_ producer, filled with excitement about the number of series commissioned by ITV. She tried to sound just as keen, just as interested but by now the snow was almost gone and there had still been no word. She made the right noises, the yes and the nos and then she saw Peter open his phone. A new text. Jenna lost track of what her producer had to say, hurriedly got him off the line.

Peter was sitting very still, the phone, its screen dark now, still in his palm, and the quiet sound of Christmas specials playing on the TV despite the fact the date was ticking towards New Year. They were stuck in the limbo days between holidays, where people never quite knew what to celebrate or what to do with themselves. Where the novelty of new toys had worn off and the thought of returning to the day job hovered over everyone. Soon everything would go back to normal.

He looked up slowly and caught her gaze and he didn’t need to say a word. Jenna swallowed and pick at her nails.

‘When?’ she said.

‘Tomorrow, around two, it’s a long drive but she’ll leave early.’

‘Right,’ her voice sounded so strained.

‘Jenna…’ he started and then failed to find words. He sat forward and leaned on his elbows. At a loss. Jenna stood awkwardly, pulling her cardigan sleeves over her hands like a child.

‘What will happen?’ she said.

‘You know what has to happen,’ Peter said, ‘We’ve been avoiding it.’

Jenna tried to quash her desperation, ‘Does it… I mean does it have to be like that…now that we’ve had this time… doesn’t it change things… at all?’ she was so aware her voice was giving out on her, that she sounded weak, pleading that way, but she never would have forgiven herself if she had just stayed quiet. There had to be a chance right? That he’d chose her?

Peter looked up at her, clearly upset, but somehow containing it.

‘Jenna, you’ve known my position from the start. And so much of this is my fault. I gave in and allowed us to have this time…’

‘You didn’t ‘allow’ it Peter, you’re not the boss of me ‘allowing me’ to do anything. We both chose to do what we did.’

‘I’m sorry… yes, you’re right, we did both go into this with eyes open. But now we have to leave it in the same way. We have already gone through the whys and wherefores. If we had a relationship, a public open relationship that allowed us to be together, it would ruin everything else in our lives, it would destroy family friends, work. I can’t do that to my family, or to you. Especially to you. Sometimes you really do have to make the hard choice and let someone go.’

It sounded so final. It made her think of the speech he’d made about there being no good choice, just bad ones, but still having to choose. Noble maybe but it wounded her. It wounded her and she was angry, she was not his choice.

‘So…’ she said with fake cheer, ‘We do that tomorrow do we? Let each other go? Got a schedule for that. Elaine gets here about two… has a chat with me about how I shouldn’t have been a bad girl and whisks you away at what, two fifteen?’ she hated the bitterness in her voice and it was obvious so did he. Peter’s jaw twitched at her tone and she felt instantly ashamed. Even if she was entitled to feel the way she did, she didn’t’ need to lower herself to verbal jibes.

‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘Sorry, god my mouth just wants to run away with me tonight.’

‘Understandable,’ he said quietly.

‘Is it?’

‘Yes. You’re hurting, anticipating even more hurt. Just remember, so am I. I know as the married party here I shouldn’t get much sympathy but… but I’ve carried this for years, this feeling I have for you, and these few weeks have been so special. Heart attack and all, even with all that fear and uncertainty mixed in, to have you here with me… I don’t know how I would have survived…’ he stopped completely unable to finished his sentence. Jenna felt the urge to go to him, quickly sit down by his side and hold him, her hand soothing his back. She could hear him fighting not to break down.

‘Jenna I want you to remember that whatever happens tomorrow, whatever gets said by whoever says it, I love you, I will always love you, but you and I just can’t….’

‘Peter,’ Jenna sobbed and searched for his face, holding it in her hands and pressing a kiss to his lips. He kissed her back needily, his cheeks damp. He pressed her back into the couch and she helped him to undo buttons and zips, just enough that they might be together. It wasn’t sensual or fancy, just sex based on raw emotion and the desperation to prove that it wasn’t over yet. When he entered her she wasn’t quite ready and he stretched her almost painfully but it didn’t matter, as long as she had him right there in her arms, inside her, for what might be the last time. He was hers. For one more night.

She cried in earnest afterwards and he joined her, a half hour to mourn their relationship before a whole night of sleepless anxiety and sorrow. Now, after a silent morning waiting, she stood by the door watching the snow melt, watching the clock tick around noon, one o’clock, nearly two.

‘Jenna, please,’ he repeated, and she was about to turn, explain to him why she had to stand there, why she had to see when Elaine arrived, watch her approach, try to evaluate what was happening; she was about to say all of that when the car turned into the drive.

Elaine’s car, pulling to a stop in the smattering of snow still left, crunching on the gravel below. Jenna’s insides felt suddenly leaden, her heart twice its usual size and situated in her throat. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think what to do. Peter’s wife, dropping by as promised, to remove her husband from Jenna’s life. To give her a piece of her mind.

Peter must have seen her pale as he moved to stand behind her and she caught the line of his gaze as he watched Elaine step from the car. Wrapped up warm, but stylish, cropped grey hair which so suited her elven features. She glanced up at the cottage door, the grey light sapping her usually blue eyes of colour, she had seen them and she raised one hand in expressionless greeting.

Jenna swallowed. ‘I can’t tell if she’s angry or not, if she’s going to be calm.’

‘That makes both of us,’ Peter confessed. ‘I should go and meet her,’ he laid his hand on the doorhandle and Jenna held him back for just a moment.

‘I love you,’ she said, ‘Whatever happens.’

‘I know,’ and to her surprise he leaned in and kissed her, right in front of the glass in the top half of the door, Elaine’s eyes on him from the path. He kissed her cheek and stepped outside.

Jenna watched him walk to meet Elaine in the middle of the path, watched them talk for a minute without hearing the words. She wondered if Elaine would stick to her wish to discuss things with Jenna too, or if she would just whisk Peter away back to their home. She wished she could hate her, but she couldn’t, she’d done nothing wrong in truth, their relationship had cooled, that happened sometimes. Now she watched as Elaine pressed a hand to Peter’s chest in concern and to her horror broke down right there in the cottage’s little garden. For a moment Peter stood stock still, shocked, then with great tenderness pulled her into his arms and offered her comfort. He kissed the top of her head and rocked her gently. He loved her, he had for years, what else could he do?

At that moment Jenna knew it was over. No matter who had what to say to each other now, Peter would be going home with his wife.

Jenna stepped back into the kitchen and made tea, waited numbly for the two of them to come in, held her cold hands to the warm teapot. She didn’t look up when the door opened behind her, couldn’t tell at first who it was, it didn’t matter, they would be a united front now, the decision was made.

‘Jenna?’ Elaine said, her voice level, ‘Can we talk?’


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elaine confronts Jenna

Jenna was putting the cosy over the teapot and carried on tugging it down into place as Elaine tried again to speak to her. She softened her tone a little and attempted a different strategy

‘Jenna? You’re making tea? That’s kind. If we could sit down for a few minutes, just you and me, share a cup?’

The teapot handle didn’t quite fit through the gap, the cosy being hand knitted, perhaps by the owner of the cottage. It looked liked a little owl, wide orange eyes and with tufts for ears.

‘Jenna?’ more pushy now, just the slightest hint but it was there. She was determined to do this then.

Finally, she straightened and turned, holding the teapot in front of her like an offering. Jenna looked Elaine in the eye. The first things she noticed was that Elaine, when wearing flat sensible winter boots, was around the same height as her. She’d met her before at various functions, had popped over to Peter’s home when they worked together, but she’d never really shared a space with her alone. Now here she was, same height, almost the same build, must have been in her younger days, slim, pretty. Elaine’s hair was grey but her skim still looked soft, her eyes bright. She had laughter lines but they weren’t showing today; she smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes.

‘Thank you,’ she said, and glanced at the table, ‘Shall we?’

She had presence, Jenna could feel it, see it in the way she held herself. She was confident, had spent fifty plus years proving she was good enough, at what she did for a job, as a mother, as a wife. She had nothing to fear from Jenna now, and she knew it; she had known it since Peter comforted her outside, perhaps even before that. Deep down from the start, she knew Peter was fundamentally hers, always. This was a battle she couldn’t lose.

‘Sit down,’ she said, suddenly in control, ‘Get a couple of mugs and pour us some tea.’

Jenna moved automatically to do just that, following instruction from the woman who was about to whisk her husband away from her evil love nest. She set down the mugs on the little table, the one with two chairs which had hosted her failed Christmas meal. Elaine sat in one and waited while Jenna provided milk, silently and nervously. She feared what would happen when there were no more instructions to follow and the real conversation started.

Jenna sat, folded her hands around her mug and stared down into it. Behind her she heard Peter come in hesitantly and hover in the kitchen. Elaine looked up quickly and nodded towards the stairs. ‘Be quick, you can’t have much to take,’ she said, acting on a plan they had obviously talked of outside.

‘No… I mean yes…’ Peter said quietly, his voice had that confused sound it got when he was overly tired, but they both knew what was meant. Jenna felt her heart grow cold. He was packing and leaving at Elaine’s instruction. Without protest. She had known he would leave but she expected more of a fight, at least some discussion. He moved behind her and started climbing the stairs.

‘Take your time,’ Jenna said automatically. Elaine raised an eyebrow. ‘You know, because of his heart, he can get a bit out of puff,’ she explained.

‘Ah… yes… his heart,’ Elaine said fiddling with her mug. ‘I need to talk to you about that too. Let’s start there.’

‘Ok,’ Jenna said. She pulled herself up straight, she had to give some illusion of control. She did not want to cry, or be defensive, or justify herself. What had happened had happened, she was not a bad person.

‘I want to thank you,’ Elaine started. Jenna watched her warily and tried to read her voice. She was aware it sounded odd so she smiled slightly, an embryonic laugh stuck somewhere in her throat, ‘I know that sounds crazy, given that I know you’ve been sleeping with him but… you were there for him when he was ill.’

‘Yes…’ Jenna said.

‘Apparently you did a lot, to help him recover I mean, took him to appointments, forced him to sleep, nagged him to eat, made sure he took his medicines… so on…’ Elaine tried to lighten her tone, here was a list of ways you helped out Jenna, that was good of you, cheers. It was uncomfortable to see and hear.

Jenna pondered briefly as Elaine awkwardly thanked her. ‘He wouldn’t tell you,’ she said after a moment, ‘If we’re going to be honest with each other you need to know that, well I I tried to get him to contact you but he said you had enough on your plate.’

Elaine considered the truth in her statement for a moment before nodding, ‘I know, it sounds like him. Things were not rosy for us at that point, we had a falling out, you know the details why…’ she looked away painfully, ‘So I went to see my cousin. She isn’t well… he would have told you that.’

‘Yes he did.’

‘He thinks a lot of others. Not too good with himself. He tends to be so desperate not to hurt people he gets tied in knots…’

Jenna laughed shortly, ‘Yes, that’s about right.’

‘It’s what he has done here,’ Elaine said, ‘It’s his weakness. He didn’t want to hurt you or me, but he’s ended up hurting both of us. Still I don’t suppose either of us will blame him, do you?’

She shook her head in reply, ‘No, I doubt I could do that and you…you’ve forgiven him?’ Jenna asked.

‘Forgiven, always, forgotten no. he has work to do, to make it up. Once he’s home.’

‘Home,’ Jenna said tonelessly.

‘He did say to you didn’t he, that was his decision?’

‘More or less,’ Jenna admitted, ‘I’ve been a bit shy of hearing the actual words.’

Elaine studied her for a moment, her gloved hands now folded in her lap. She wouldn’t take them off, she wouldn’t be there long enough. Just this conversation and then out. A few minutes. She watched Jenna with the air of an artist, seeking inspiration, seeking a reality to paint out on canvas, an experience or a truth, something beautiful which hurt to be seen.

‘What did he tell you?’ Elaine asked curiously, almost thirstily, ‘About his feelings?’

Jenna bit her lip, ‘I don’t want to talk about that,’ she said protectively. ‘He’s chosen to go home with you, that’s all that matters.’

‘But it isn’t is it?’ Elaine said, something changing subtly in her voice, ‘Like I said I’ve forgiven, but if we are to work on our marriage again then…’

‘Then you should be asking him what he feels, not me,’ Jenna said looking up at her. ‘Talk to him about his feelings, why he did what he did, why he needed what he needed. Why he didn’t tell you he was ill. I’m not here to give you some magic insight into your relationship.’

There was a pause and Elaine’s curiosity turned suddenly to simmering, ill-hidden anger.

‘Seems to me that’s the least you can do,’ Elaine said darkly. Jenna saw the change in her, so far, relaxed features as she spoke and felt her heartrate respond to adrenaline. Elaine, who had been trying hard to be civilised, had been pricked by Jenna’s response and was struggling to keep calm.’

‘Peter wouldn’t tell me he fell ill,’ Elaine said, ‘So you cared for him, and I believe you tried to get him to touch base, for those things I am genuinely grateful. That he wasn’t here alone, that he was looked after…. But after that…’ she cocked her head at her slightly, her jaw was set.

‘After that?’ Jenna said.

‘After that you owe it to me to tell me the truth.’

‘Owe it…? How do I owe you anything?’ Jenna asked.

‘You encouraged my husband to cheat on me, you owe me something for that,’ Elaine said bluntly.

‘He didn’t need encouraging,’ Jenna said, ‘It wasn’t a case of me seducing him like some wanton maiden!’

‘Wasn’t it now? I’m not a fool Jenna, he was vulnerable, and you’ve had a crush on him for years. He volunteers the information that we’re going through a rough patch and you’re straight on it…’

Jenna laughed out loud, bitter laughter which rocked Elaine a little. ‘You have no idea what actually happened,’ Jenna said, ‘Of what he told me about his feelings and his needs. Of how I didn’t want to take advantage of that, _especially_ when he was ill. You cannot place all the blame on me, it was his choice too….’

‘You just said it… he was vulnerable,’ Elaine said critically, ‘You should never have even contemplated it.’

Jenna was about to fire back a response when a noise from behind her quickly drew her attention.

‘Elaine, you promised me,’ Peter stood at the bottom of the stairs, a packed bag in one hand and his coat slung over the other arm. ‘Please don’t try and apportion blame. We were equally responsible. Don’t’ make this harder than it already is for _everybody_.’

Elaine’s eyes rested firmly on Jenna. ‘I want to know everything, every detail,’ she said.

‘No,’ was Peter’s response.

‘If I’m taking you back home, to try and sort this out, I insist that…’ she glared at him across the room.

‘No, it won’t help, picking over the details, we are all hurting enough as it is,’ Peter said.

‘All of us?’ Elaine said sarcastically, ‘You’re worrying more about her feelinsg than mine, heaven forbid you make her speak the truth…’

‘There is no point in dragging it all up,’ Peter said desperately, ‘We can talk, and then you either forgive me and move past it or you don’t. Forcing it out of Jenna, mulling over it further, its unhealthy, you’ve been tormenting yourself all Christmas….’

‘Ha!’ Elaine’s tone became bitter itself and Jenna recognised in her the same insecurity and hurt she felt in herself. ‘I’ve been tormenting myself? Well yes I have. You want to know why? Because my husband went AWOL at Christmas time without contacteing me or our daughter, and then I find out he’s not only had a massive heart attack without telling me but he’s shacked up with his co-star. Forgive me if I want to check for any other omissions while I have the bitch in front of me!’

‘Enough! This is helping no-one,’ Peter said. ‘Say what you’ve got to say and let’s go.’ Jenna watched him tense at the bottom of the stairs, chewing the inside of his cheek and shifting the weight of his bag impatiently. Elaine turned back to her.

‘Ok let me truncate this,’ she said, ‘I never want to see you again. I don’t want you near the house, I don’t want you to meet for coffee or whatever else you claimed to be doing…’

‘I swear we were never ‘together’ in that way until this Christmas…’ Jenna tried to interject.

‘Shut up… why should I believe anything you say?’ Elaine snapped, ‘It’s my turn now, Jenna, just shut up and listen. No meetings, no coffee, no teaching you photography. No going to the same events, I don’t care if you’re both nominated for an Oscar, _you_ don’t go. You stay absolutely clear of my husband…’

‘We were friends before all this, surely when things settle….’

‘No!’ Elaine said brutally, slamming one hand down onto the table to punctate her response. ‘Nothing, you understand, or so help me you will never work in this business again.’

Jenna scoffed, ‘That’s insane you can’t stop me from working…’

‘Jenna…’ Peter said warningly. She looked quickly at him and he shook his head silently. Elaine smiled to herself.

‘I’m a producer with a lot of friends in this business. If they find out you’ve been shagging my husband I doubt very much they will take kindly to it no matter how talented you might be. Remember that I’ve been around a lot longer than you… and while that might make you youthful nubile and attractive enough to seduce a stupid old man, it makes me the one with the influence.’

Jenna glared at her but didn’t move from her spot at the table. Elaine took her lakc of response as victory and stood, holding her hand out for Peter.

‘Go out to the car,’ he said.

Her face paled, ‘Peter you agreed…’

‘Just do it!’ he said loudly, ‘I have agreed to come home, to try and repair our marriage one last time, but I am not going to just walk out of her without saying goodbye to a woman who has quite literally saved my life, I’m sure. And that’s something you should remember when you speak to her, if you want me back so much. I wouldn’t be here without her.’

Elaine cast an angry glance at Jenna, ‘I have thanked you for what you did, but you will not get any more from me,’ she said quietly.

‘Feelings mutual,’ Jenna muttered as she left.

She listened to the slow crunch of snow and gravel as Elaine retreated to the car and to the softer step of Peter approaching.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, pausing by the table, ‘Jenna?’

Jenna looked up at him, saw how pale he looked. Under his coat, slung over his arm she could see his spray clutched in his hand.

‘You ok? You need to sit down?’ she asked, her concern for him always first.

‘I’ll be ok… I…’ he looked at her sadly, ‘Will you? Be ok I mean, after I go?’

She wanted to scream that of course she wouldn’t, that she couldn’t imagine life without him either as a friend or now a lover, that the cottage would feel cold and empty and she would probably cry herself to sleep each night until the lease expired, and spend each day motionless on the couch numb with pain.

But of course she didn’t, because it would only worry him, hurt him, make him ill. So instead she managed a weak smile and took the hand he had placed on her shoulder into her own. She kissed it, rubbed his fingers warm.

‘I’ll be fine. Go. Do what you have to do.’

Peter looked at her for a moment as though he might say something more, but she couldn’t stand to hear it, or to listen to the way his voice cracked.

‘Jenna... I…’

‘I already know,’ she said.

Elaine’s car started outside, and he was gone.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenna is left in the cottage alone

Jenna had spent very little time alone at the cottage since she rented it. Straight away upon arriving in Wales she had sought out Peter, and then of course he had been ill and she’d divided her time between sleeping and being with him on the wards. Now she sat motionless at the table and realised just how quiet it was. Not peaceful and soothing in its silence but something more disturbing. It made her feel totally alone.

He had been right there that morning, and this time yesterday, but since then she had listened to Elaine’s car pull away down the drive, taking her husband, Jenna’s lover, with it. Initially it felt as though if Jenna didn’t move, he might reappear. Like the time in the cottage had been frozen, just waiting for him to come back through the door and say he’d changed his mind.

Of course it didn’t work that way. Jenna’s statue like waiting became something else, a restlessness she couldn’t quell. She moved from window to window peering out at the woods and the last traces of snow. Willing Peter to come around the corner, believing if she visualised it hard enough he just might. She paced the living area, wrapped her arms around herself as she moved, purposeless but driven, just a way to pass the time and to try and burn the energy inside that screamed that he was gone. Gone.

It took a few more minutes until she realised she was making a strange high pitched whine of a noise, something quite primitive she’d never heard herself do before. It just bubbled up inside and sat brewing in the back of her throat until at last it demanded to be released, a sound of pure helpless distress. Nothing she could do to salve the situation, just this pain getting worse by the second.

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned back and forth, sat on the bottom two, then stood again. Jenna clutched each side of her head and squeezed, trying to dislodge the feeling that kept on growing. Peter was gone. He had chosen his marriage and he was gone. It didn’t matter how civil she had been towards him, how understanding, or how much justified or unjustified abuse she took off his betrayed wife, he was gone and that was that. She wouldn’t be seeing him again, Elaine had made that clear, and anyway if she did she doubted she could cope with it, she doubted friendship could survive this level of complication.

So that was that. Their close, unique friendship shattered. It was all her fault, Elaine was right to blame her, to warn her off. She had selfishly given in, lived her fantasy, with no regard for real consequences.

Even in her head she could hear Peter arguing against that, defending her. She sat again, hunched over on the stairs and rocked, her hands tangled again in her hair. The sweat was running from her, her heart pounding. She didn’t know how to calm down, she’d just never felt like this, never. Not after a bereavement, not after a split with a boyfriend, no loss had left her feeling so out of control.

‘Stop… stop…’ Jenna told herself. ‘You have to calm down.’

Her breathing was picking up and she could feel pins and needles in her fingers. There was a tight feeling in her chest. She couldn’t cope with this, it was all too much, all the strength she had thought she had, just left her and she felt her limbs weaker than before. Part of her mind told her it was panic, it would pass, but the rest of her just followed it, shaking and crying. The crying had started. It had probably never stopped and she gulped in great mouthfuls of air as she sobbed. Her emotions were way out of control and it scared her.

Suddenly a wave of nausea hit her and she scrambled up the stairs to the little bathroom. Jenna dropped to her knees by the toilet and heaved painfully. She hadn’t really eaten in the last twenty-four hours, her anxiety far too high, and now her stomach was having its revenge. The combination of bile and distress sent her running to be sick. Wave after wave until at last it settled enough for her to lean away a little and turn with her back against the wall. It was mercifully cold against her damp top and skin beneath.

Jenna flushed the toilet and wiped her mouth with some tissue. She sat and stared at the wall opposite while her breathing slowed, and let the silence descend again. The plaster was old and cracked in places so she followed the lines with her eyes, criss-crossing the space in front of her. There was a spider in one corner, sitting amongst its web, long legs waiting on silk strands for a fly to trigger its response. It was winter however and flies were few and far between if active at all. She suddenly felt a little sorry for it, it would be waiting a long time. It might even die doing so.

‘Hey,’ she said quietly, ‘I must be bad if I’m sympathising with a spider,’ she half laughed and swiped at her cheeks with the tissues she held balled in her hand. The tears just kept coming, slithering down her skin. Her head hurt from dehydration, how long had she been crying anyway?

Jenna looked at her phone, silent and messageless, and then at the room around her. Darkness had crept in without her knowledge, her eyes adjusting as it grew around her. It was evening now, and Peter had been gone a few hours. She couldn’t just sit on the floor and cry, but when she tried to move her legs and back protested. She levered herself up stiffly and tried to stretch away the cramped feeling.

‘A drink.’ She should get a drink, rehydrate, try and get rid of the headache, try to stop crying long enough for the pain to go away. She scoffed internally at the little voice that offered its advice to her. Nothing was going to make the pain go away. She reached the top of the stairs and held tight to the bannister. Jenna felt wobbly, like her legs were not to be trusted as she inched her way down.

There was some light downstairs from one of the table lamps so she made her way straight to the kitchen area. The teapot with its owl cosy was still on the table, the mugs opposite one another. Elaine’s was half empty, Jenna’s was full. She’d barely touched her tea and used the mug instead to somehow ground her. She had clung onto it for dear life. Tea. She was a northern lass and tea featured heavily in times of crisis, this was no different. Jenna gathered the two mugs and poured the cold tea away, dumping Elaine’s in the sink before washing her own. She found a teabag and boiled the kettle, watching it steam in the cold of the room.

She wondered what to do next. She should keep occupied or even go straight back to London, see friends, maybe travel home to see her family. These would be healthy options. Tea and sympathy and loved ones, except she couldn’t tell a soul what ailed her. Jenna poured the water into her mug and watched it turn brown before suddenly pushing it away. She moved instead to a cupboard under the counter and extracted a bottle of red wine, part of the store of food and drink she had bought for the festive period. She grabbed a glass and went to the couch.

She could be sensible later, she was hurting now. Jenna poured herself a large helping and sat back. The light from the lamp was dancing round the decorations. The tinsel on the walls and the golden bells hanging between each strip. The tree was sparkling with baubles and stars just as she had wanted it. It had been beautiful but now the whole thing was starting to droop just a little. Christmas was done with, the time for celebration was over. She didn’t care about New Year, she never usually paid it much heed but this year was worse. This year the ‘auld acquaintance’ she would be forgetting was Peter. Except she couldn’t forget, she just had to stay away.

The decorations irritated her after the first glass. Forced cheer was not something she was capable of right at that moment. She stood up a little too quickly and wobbled, wine on an empty stomach plus emotions as strong as she was feeling proved her undoing. She stumbled and caught herself with a bang to her knees by the little table to one end of the couch.

‘Stupid thing,’ she spat out painfully and resumed her direction of travel, with a slight weave, to the tree. Jenna stood and glared at it for a moment. She had so loved decorating it and showing it off to Peter when he had come home. Now it just hurt, the stupid dying, glitzy thing in the corner of the room, trying to hang on to its glory as the year dragged itself to its conclusion. She grabbed a handful of tinsel and yanked.

It came away easily enough and with it half the pine needles from the branches it rested on. Jenna dumped it and grabbed at another strip of silver. A pile began to grow at her feet and soon she was adding baubles and stars. When she was done with the tree she moved around the room, glass of wine in one hand, using the other to dismantle more decorations and add them to the pile. At last the place was stripped bare and she went back to the kitchen for a rubbish bag, stuffing the evidence of Christmas into it quickly, brutally. She dropped it in the bin and stood measuring up the tree. How on earth would she get it out? She’d had it delivered by the man who sold them, it was far too big for her to move alone, if Peter were….

She stopped her thoughts dead. How odd that in just a few weeks she had come to see him as a partner of some sort, as someone who was always available to help and support her. She had to undo that now, change the way she thought automatically.

‘I’ll just have to manage,’ she said to herself. She took another fortifying swig of wine and knelt under the tree to release it from its base. It immediately lurched over to one side, half falling on her but she managed to steady it. It weighed a ton, but she got a grip around its trunk and heaved, slowly, slowly making progress to the front door.

There were pine needles everywhere by the time she had got it outside and dragged it to a pile of as yet undisturbed snow. It was dark so he dumped it and hoped it wasn’t lying on something important or creating an obstruction. It was too cold and her hands too scratched to linger and worry so back she went to the living area.

It seemed absolutely devoid of colour now, just the single lamp and the fire to light it. She sat down heavily and topped up her glass. Dark, colourless and cold. Dead needles everywhere. How quickly the environment changed without him. They’d had no power at Christmas and she hadn’t felt this isolated, chilled sensation. If she stayed here alone she’d go mad, she just knew it. Mad from loneliness and mad from missing him.

Again her sensible side tried to communicate with her through the haze of alcohol in her bloodstream. Pack your things tomorrow and go home. Immerse yourself in what you know and look forward. Be sensible, he’s done the right thing by everyone, cheating on his wife with you was never going to work out.

She knew all that.

It didn’t matter.

The evening ticked on, the dark became thicker and the cold chill deeper. Jenna shuffled through to the kitchen to find another bottle. The TV was on, just noise to drown out the silence, people laughing and having fun as New Year approached. She was certain that when it came she would be alone, preferably unconscious so she didn’t have to do the rounds of pleasantries as the bells rang out. She found the bottle and moved to go back to her seat.

Something caught her eye as she looked out of the window. A slight movement in the dark. She frowned and tried to focus for a second before making her way over and cupping her hands around her face, pressed to the glass to see.

Silent, fluttering, drifting flakes of snow, settling thickly on the drive.

Jenna laughed bitterly, it looked like it was on for the night and already lying deeply. It couldn’t have come last night and saved her from the events of the day? It couldn’t have blocked the roads then and not now? He’d still be here. She laughed and the tears started all over again. How cruel the whole business was, how unfair. She stood away from the window not wanting to see, dug about in her pocket for her phone and checked for the hundredth time that day for messages.

For _a_ message. For anything to demonstrate that there was still a form of connection between them, that he cared. She knew home would be tense, that communication would be hard. She pictured him arguing with Elaine, the pair of them trying to sort things and him taking time out while she tried to do the same and calm herself down. They both wanted to save the marriage but accusations would be flying and he had been clear this was a last chance situation. Elaine would be furious but trying her very best to hang on. He’d be trying to stay level and civilised while he was tired and wrung out.

Her mind wandered further. Maybe he would try and contact her last thing? He’d go to the bathroom and send Jenna a line without Elaine knowing. Nothing too deep or painful, just something to say he still cared even if they couldn’t be together.

She stared and stared at the screen, checked the time again. Nothing.

If he really wanted to save his marriage, he would do as Elaine had suggested and silence would be all Jenna could come to expect.

She paused, the realisation hitting hard and powerfully, then poured the rest of her wine down the sink. She was on her own now. No-one to take care of her but herself. She’d get some sleep if she could, and pack in the morning. There was no point in staying in the cottage, it had been somewhere for the two of them, not her alone.

It was time to go home.

 

 

 

 

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch26 is set about 6 months after the events of Ch 25.

Traffic. Traffic and birdsong. Jenna groaned into the crisp hotel pillow and tried to ignore the sounds of a summer morning near to today’s location. She had arrived late the previous night, met with Tom, stayed up far too late drinking and now she had to somehow rouse herself for the day ahead. Oh, but it hurt. Her head, and her throat, she suspected she had been singing, and various other bits that ached and throbbed.

‘What the hell was I doing last night?’ she grumbled into the covers. Wait, where was Tom? He usually fell in the door with her and agreed to casual sex to end the evening. Friends with benefits, no strings attached. It was how she preferred things these days. Emotionless. Jenna opened her eyes quickly and glanced around the room.

‘Tom?’ she sat up and regretted the movement. Her brains banged off the inside of her skull and nausea swept through her body. She clasped a hand to her forehead. ‘Tom?’ His clothes didn’t seem to be there, maybe he hadn’t stayed? She tried to think back to last night, to the award ceremony for best drama series. Sure enough there was the award, a plastic looking thing from ITV sitting on the bedside table. So she’d definitely got that far, but then things were hazy. She was sure the cast and crew had swept the board, again, she had a vague recollection of paying attention until the gongs for costume were handed out and then…?

Wine. Too much wine. And champagne, lots of it, and some club or other, dancing with Tom, Rufus excusing himself, he did that more often these days. He usually got that look about him. The one that said ‘I can’t believe you’re showing yourself up like this again, Jenna.’ He’d probably moan at her today.

Today. Shit what was the time? She rolled to the side of the bed and squinted at her phone. She was going to be late for the driver, but she was knackered. God only knew what time they had dropped her here and now they wanted her up again. She was the star of the show, surely she could catch a few extra hours sleep if she wanted to. Its not like it happened often.

She paused about to drag herself to the edge of the mattress. Actually it happened all the time. The whole show would be held up if she asked for more sleep every time she had been out late.

‘Ok, you can do this,’ she pushed herself up and staggered a bit. Must still be drunk. Holding onto the wall she steadied her posture and looked ahead into the floor length mirror on the wall by the _ensuite._ Her hair was all over the place, her make was smudged and she was only wearing her underwear. The several thousand pound dress she had been lent for the evening was missing.

‘Shit!’ she looked frantically round the room. It couldn’t just go missing. Someone had to have taken it, maybe after taking it off her. She couldn’t do it herself it had all these weird fastenings and …. Wait…. Amy. Jenna dived for her phone again and checked her messages.

‘Jenna, took the dress back before you puked on it. Get a grip.’

She breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Best PA ever,’ she told the room. ‘And for your information I don’t puke…’ she went to the minibar and extracted a bottle of fizzy water that probably cost a tenner and began rehydrating herself in earnest.

‘Ok damage assessment. Pretty heavy night, don’t remember much, might be in the papers.’ Jenna winced, she’d have to google herself in a minute. ‘On the plus side, dress is safe and I don’t seem to have Tom lurking so don’t have to pry him out the door again.’

Her co-star was becoming a pain. A nice enough guy he seemed to think that these times when Jenna was low and lonely and invited him in actually meant something to her. Sometimes when she was sober she hated herself for the way she treated him, and at others she told him he should consider himself lucky, plenty of men would like to sleep with her. She had to keep him sweet though as he played her husband and they had a lot of onscreen sex as well as off. Jenna smirked and gulped more water, it was all sort of funny if it wasn’t secretly so miserable. She swallowed a large mouthful and immediately regretted it, the cold hitting her stomach and causing an instant rebellion.

Jenna dashed for the en suite, threw up into the pristine toilet and sat heaving over it for a moment. Shit she’d be even more late now by the time she sorted herself out. She leaned on the rim, felt the sweat on her forehead and knew she looked pale and ill. She’d have to put on some make up, before going into make up just in case there were some fans hanging about. There usually were, wherever they went, but she never spoke to them. Largely because they always asked about one person in particular.

No, don’t go there, you’re enough of a mess this morning.

But it was too late, he’d already made an appearance in her memory and now he’d stick about all day. Good times and bad, things he’d said and done, the show, the meals they ate together, they world tours they did. Christmas. The way things were, the way she was when she was with him. A better person than today. She disgusted herself sometimes. She let herself down.

Jenna groaned, unsure if it was because of her stomach or her heart. She couldn’t cope with this now. Slowly she pushed herself upright and turned on the shower, stripped her underwear where she stood and half fell into it. The water pounded down onto her painful head and she looked down over her body.

That had changed too. Too many parties and not enough meals out had led to her shifting a stone from her already slight frame. The media were in two minds about this loss, some touting her ‘fresh new kook’ and asking for diet tips, while other raised concerns about her as a role model when her ribs and collar bones were clearly visible. She was in the first camp and did as much as she could to hide the damage. Her diet tips were nothing more than stress and loneliness, if anyone wanted to try it.

Jenna turned the force down on the shower, it hurt her skin. She couldn’t take baths comfortably because they did the same to her bones. She counted todays bruises. Purples and blues that seemed to emerge too easily on her legs in particular. She was forever bumping into things. She was forever a bit woozy even without the drink, and her heart, it was always skipping along too fast, too anxiously.

She stepped out the shower quickly and wrapped a towel around herself. Leaning into the mirror it was time to tidy her face. Dark circles were rapidly becoming an issue but she’d found this miracle cover up stick that seem to do the job. She dabbed it in splodges under both eyes and blended. She scrapped her wet hair up and left it in a pony tail for the hairdresser to sort. Ok a bit more presentable. Clothes next, clothes. Think. Think!

Back in the bedroom and she rummaged through her case for something she could throw on and get into the car wearing. She never seemed to have anything casual these days it was all designer. Big sunglasses, she needed those, just in case. And there, loose clothing, covered a multitude of sins. She had just sipped on her shoes when the reception rang and told her that the car was there.

It was half five in the morning and she hadn’t really expected a lobby full of fans at that time. The lift opened and there they were, _Victoria_ and _Doctor Who_ alike, chattering and excited to see her. When they laid eyes on her there was a group squeal and Jenna felt a shot of sheer panic run through her. It would look too weird to hide back in the lift and go up again so she put her head down and just decided to make a run for it. Surely the concierge would help keep the fans at bay?

It was only when she was half way across the lobby she realised they weren’t just fans but media too and they were both persistent and ruthless. She had to get out of there but then the questions started.

‘Jenna are you dating Tom Hughes?’

‘Jenna have you and Rufus been romantically involved?’

‘Is it true you have an issue with alcohol?’

‘Jenna would you consider a final return to _Doctor Who_ now that Peter has announced his departure?’

She stopped and turned around trying to find the speaker in the crowd.

‘What?’ she said quietly. The group surged forward with cameras and microphones.

‘Peter, your old co-star, the Doctor himself,’ a tall man with a spray tan said, ‘He announced yesterday that due to ill health he would be pulling out of the show at the end of this series. Its traditional that an old companion comes to say goodbye before his regeneration, given how long you worked together, I wondered if you had considered it?’

‘I…’ she faltered, adjusted her sunglasses.

‘It looks like you hadn’t heard. Of course maybe you aren’t in touch anymore?’ he looked intrigued. She and Peter had worked hard to keep up the pretence they were still friends without ever actually communicating at any length.

‘We… I… I’ve no comment to make,’ Jenna said and turned quickly back to the door. Several fans tried to get her attention with pleas of ‘We’d love to see you reunited,’ ‘please for just one episode, Jenna.’

She escaped at last to find the car outside and shut herself safely behind the tinted glass.

‘Morning Jenna,’ her driver said cheerfully. She barely acknowledged him, flicking through her phone as she was. She scanned the tabloid and gossip websites for information. The first half of the series Peter had been working on when he got ill had just finished airing and was received with massive popularity. He had truly made his mark as Doctor now and people were excited for the second half which he was half way through filming. According to one interview however, published the day before, Peter had been struggling with his health and felt he ought to quit now, a decision he found heart-breaking but unavoidable.

Heart-breaking but unavoidable. Jenna knew all about that, but this wasn’t about her. He _would_ be heartbroken, the show was his dream.

She skimmed down the webpage to find the latest shots of him leaving set late in the evening the previous week. She’d deliberately avoided seeing him since he left the cottage in December, she hadn’t read the magazines or watched the show. She avoided all questions and requests to do with him. Now there he was on her phone. She zoomed into the picture.

He wore a grey T-shirt and a pair of skinny black jeans. He carried his bag over one shoulder and wore his shades as usual, but even through the material of his clothes she could see he had lost weight too, that he was frail and if possible even more pale than usual. His cheeks were gaunt and he didn’t raise a hand in greeting to the fans she could see waiting. The photographer commented that he looked exhausted and had got straight into the car, his PA later sending apologies and explaining he wasn’t well.

Jenna felt herself grow pale and the cold sweat she’d felt earlier come over her again. She opened a window and tried to drink in the fresh air as they travelled. Six months trying to forget about him, trying to build her reputation as an actress and a strong woman and all she’d managed to do was repress how she felt for a while occasionally making a fool of herself. Nothing had really changed deep down. If she admitted it she still saw his face very night as she fell asleep. It was one reason she drank so much, that way she didn’t remember the dreams.

She felt a familiar tightness in her chest and tried to slow her breathing. When it wouldn’t calm down she reached into her bag and drew out a strip of little yellow pills, took two. She probably didn’t need two, it would probably make her slightly dopey, but the pills were like the alcohol, they made her forget things, stopped her shaking with her nerves, stopped the thoughts in her head.

They drove and drove, but that morning Jenna’s mind wouldn’t be quiet.

She was just about to get out of the car and start her day, when her phone began to ring.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenna answers the phone.....

Jenna stared at it, the little green bar at the top of the webpage she had been viewing which asked her ‘answer’ or ‘reject.’ She didn’t recognise the number but for a brief second she thought it was Peter, his picture on the website below tricking her mind. Of course it wasn’t Peter, they hardly ever had any communication and certainly not talking. She thought if she heard his voice she would shatter, so she limited it to the odd text.

‘Are you going to the BAFTAs? If so let me know, I’ll stay home.’ That sort of depressing missive, increasingly rare and briefer than ever.

No this wasn’t Peter, she knew, but the longer she stared at the number that morning the more she suspected it was to do with him, his announcement and the show. She’d have to tackle it, there was no way round. She had been a huge part of Peter’s tenure there, the press would be on at her until she made some sort of statement. The show would probably want her back as the journalist had suggested for a swan song. It was a modern tradition on the show and if she refused it might look odd. Worse it might look like she was too big a star now for a silly sci-fi drama, a kids show. She’d be seen as aloof on top of her already crumbling reputation. No, Jenna couldn’t just put her head down today and work, the issue wasn’t going to leave her alone.

Spurred on she swiped the phone on ‘answer.’

‘Hello?’ she said trying to sound in control.

‘Jenna! It’s me, Chris, I was wanting to speak to you about Peter’s finale…’

She leaned back into the seat and wound the window up just in case there was anyone who might hear. _Doctor Who’s_ new producer, it was the inevitable phone call and she felt glad for her medicine. The pills were kicking in and her head felt lighter; the palpitations in her chest still present but less troubling. Jenna felt herself dissociate slightly from the world.

‘Go ahead,’ she said, ‘I just heard the announcement.’

‘Yeah, really sad, he loves this job, we’d keep him, I assure you we’d keep him and I tried to talk him out of it… we’d make adjustments, we’d support him…’

Chris wittered on about how much they’d miss him, how hard they’d tried to change his mind. Jenna listened distantly, once Peter made up his mind it was hard to change it. She knew that only too well. He had a set of rules and an internal moral compass he abided with ninety percent of the time. If he felt he wasn’t giving his best for his viewers, giving the best performances he could and being there for his fans outside the studio, at conventions, on the street, he would leave, even if it hurt him horribly.

‘Jenna?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Is the signal going?’

‘No, no… sorry, I’m here, I’m listening.’

‘So what do you think?’ the producer asked cautiously. His tone clearly implied he really wanted a positive response. His fingers were probably crossed. Jenna snapped back to reality with the realisation she had no idea what he’d asked. Was it about a final episode? She couldn’t just assume.

‘About?’ she asked cringing.

A hesitation. She was making him repeat himself. She winced. She must be too stoned to be taking in what he was saying, more evidence she was a wreck who didn’t deserve to be asked to appear in anything.

‘About being in the last episode?’

‘Right, yeah,’ she said relieved she was in roughly the right area.’

‘Yes we’d love to have you. You know, to say goodbye.’

To say goodbye. For whatever reason those words hit her harder than she expected. She knew Chris referred to Clara and her version of the Doctor, but there was another layer under that. She would be there to help Peter say goodbye to the show he loved, just like she’d been there his first day, and beyond that… beyond that there was a cauldron of other emotion which would be flung at her if she said yes. She’d have to say goodbye to Peter again too.

A memory of her pacing the cottage at Christmas came back to her along with the ghost of pain she had felt. Even through the haze of diazepam she’d taken and a six month break it hurt like hell. If she said yes to this she’d have to do it all again. No way. No way she could do that.

‘I don’t think I’m available,’ she said coolly.

There was a pause on the line, ‘Oh… right…’ Chris said clearly disappointed and surprised. ‘I just thought with you two such great friends you’d jump at the … what’s funny?’

She’d snorted at his remark without realising it. Such great friends. So great they never saw one another or talked.

‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘nothing, something at this end.’

‘Oh. So you’re sure you aren’t up for this?’

Jenna looked out the window at the fans gathered at the closed gates of the studio where she was filming that day.

‘Like I said, I think I’ll be busy with _Victoria_.’

‘Just a few days’ worth, Jenna? You’re the star I’m sure you could arrange it? Next month? We can afford a bit of flexibility here?’

Again she snorted. If only he knew how many favours she asked these days when hungover or spaced out. How many delays she had already caused. There was no chance no chance at all they’d give her time. Not that she would need to ask, they would be wrapped in a fortnight, she was perfectly free to do _Who_ if she felt inclined, she was just hiding.

‘I’m not that powerful,’ she said trying to be easy going. Chris’s response shocked her.

‘Jenna, this is really important to him, and frankly I’m a bit surprised at you. Everything you pair did and said about each other, you were tight, you were so close. I just don’t understand why you are so reluctant to do this when he’s clearly unwell and it would mean so much to him.’

His tone felt a bit like a slap and some of the haze lifted from her thoughts. Before she realised she asked, ‘Is it his heart?’

Silence.

‘Jenna you are in contact with Peter aren’t you?’

‘Of course I…’

‘You can’t be,’ his voice sounded odd, ‘You can’t be in touch or you’d know exactly why this is so important. What he’s going through.’

Jenna’s heart leapt. _What_ he was going through?

‘I…’ she tried.

‘Can you at least spare him an hour over lunch? Or an hour with me at the very minimum?’

‘I don’t see how…’ she stumbled not knowing where her sentence would take her.

Chris had had enough. He exploded on the line. ‘For God’s sake girl, this is Peter we’re talking about. _Peter._ The kindest man either of us will probably ever be privileged to know, the one human being who would do anything for anyone, and you won’t spare one hour to even consider the script, to even talk about it?’

There was real anger now in the producer’s voice and within her own body a heated pooling mass of guilt around her heart. It squeezed and twisted and she felt hot tears spring to her eyes. Shit. Shit she was losing it, and these days that was not a good thing. A meltdown could last all day; she might not be able to steady herself up enough for the shoot. She had to wear blue contacts and that just didn’t work if she was crying between takes. She had to nip it in the bud.

‘Ok,’ she said swiping her eyes and putting her sunglasses back on, ‘Ok, yes, you’re right. Lunch, we’ll discuss it. I’ll be there.’

‘Thank you,’ Chris sounded frustrated, ‘I will text you details, can you do Saturday?’

‘Yes, yes…’

‘Fine…’

‘Um… Chris…?’

‘Yes.’

‘Will Peter be there?’ Jenna asked quietly.

‘Would it be a problem if he was?’ Chris replied thoughtfully. ‘Jenna are you going to tell me what the hell is going on here?’

She bit down and cleared her throat a little. ‘Nothing is going on I was just wondering?’

‘I don’t know until I ask him, but I will be asking him. So whatever the issue is, if there is an issue, sort it out. I’ll speak to you later, book a restaurant and so on. Goodbye Jenna.’

The call ended and she sat staring at the phone, at the webpage that featured Peter, pale, gaunt, clearly unwell. Was it his heart? She suddenly wasn’t sure. Chris had hinted at something else, something bad and she realised she had no idea. She had no contact. She’d known every little thing about this man for the years they worked together. She’d nursed him intimately when he’d been so unwell, and now she knew nothing. Of his activities, of his health, of his thoughts.

She could have sat there all day but the driver had got impatient and on hearing her end the call had got out to open her door. Jenna stepped dazed out into the early morning sunshine, the bank of fans still behind the gates.

‘Will you be saying hello to them?’ the driver asked.

Jenna glanced across. People. So many people. People with banners, people with photos to sign, people wanting photos taken. Hands grasping pens, bags full of supplies for their wait, some had been there for hours already. Jenna was a huge star these days, people queued. They camped. They sacrificed their comfort and spent their money to see her.

And she never went to say hello. Not these days. They would all ask about Peter. She could see girls dressed as Weeping Angels and a TARDIS. One dressed as herself in character as Clara. They were _Who_ fans and they would be devastated about Peter’s announcement and the first thing they would ask would be ‘are you going to be in his last episode?’

‘No,’ she said and turned towards the studio. She could feel the driver’s irritation behind her but pushed on. She couldn’t do this today. The wrong question and she’d break down. She had no answers to give.

Peter had been her best friend and she realised all of a sudden that he wasn’t now. Part of her had been hiding from the truth for six months, kidding itself on they were just busy or had fallen out of touch but one day soon they’d pick up the phone and everything would be normal again. Best buddies, always had been.

But they weren’t not anymore. The little bit of her in denial shrivelled and died. He had gone back to his wife, he had lived six months out of touch with Jenna, she could be nobody to him by now, an old colleague with whom he made a mistake, nearly ruined his marriage. Just look at her now, a drunk on the red carpet. He’d had a narrow escape, Elaine would tell him and he’d agree.

Jenna entered her dressing room and began preparing for the day, but her fuzzy mind lingered on Peter. Chris would ask him to join them she just knew it. Could she do this at all? Shouldn’t she just plead that she was busy and not attend? Not do the episode? But then so many people would be disappointed. Not least her, in herself, she was pathetic. She saw a chink in the door that had been so firmly shut and now she couldn’t stay away.

Jenna needed to know. She needed to know what was happening. She didn’t know what he was feeling, or what was going on. A thought struck her and her heart lifted for a moment. Was it him who had asked for her to come back?

Would he do that, want that? Or was he just going with what his producer said. Did he even know Chris was planning it, had he read the script?

What if he hadn’t? What if he found out at lunch and hated the idea?

What if he hated _her_?

She stood before her mirror and examined her reflection. Pale, tired, moist eyes. She looked nothing like he would remember, the beautiful woman he’d loved. There lay the problem, there lay her biggest fear.

What if he hated what she had become?


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The meeting in the restaurant isn't quite as planned.

28.

Saturday came around too quickly and too slowly at once. Jenna had been working on _Victoria_ and the days passed normally but her evenings dragged on late into the small hours. It didn’t seem to matter how she tried to fill them, the hours just went on and on.

She tried going for drinks with the crew, but by now they had grown aware that she could overstep the mark and tried to avoid encouraging her to increase her alcohol intake, or be near a public house in any way at all.

Fine so the crew weren’t interested, she’d entertain herself. Jenna sat in her apartment and tried the healthier options to pass the time. Giving herself a facial or a pedicure, watching a movie with a bottle of wine and a pizza. Not exactly healthy, healthy, but better than the pub.

Ten minutes into whatever movie it was, she’d grow restless. There was something or someone missing. These quiet nights in in her past had usually been shared with Peter. He’d cook something or run lines waiting for the delivery boy while she plastered dead sea mud on her face and pretended she was trying to scare him. He’d tell her she looked like a monster from _Who_ and geek out about the ancient episode while she did her nails, trying hard not to laugh and spill varnish everywhere.

It was warm, and intimate and relaxed and she missed it. The movie forgotten Jenna opened the second bottle of wine and just went with the misery.

Yes, the nights had been long this week.

Now Jenna stood on the pavement opposite the little Italian Chris had chosen for their meeting. She pressed the crossing button and waited, peering through the window and the gloomy interior of the restaurant, blinded slightly by the July sun despite her sunglasses. Chris was at a table for four she saw. He was a squat man with brown hair in a receding hairline and glasses. On the chubby side, cosy looking, he’d been a good choice for show runner after Steven. Jenna could feel her hands shaking already though, what on earth he thought of her after their phonecall she didn’t know. She tried to steady herself but these days it was harder and harder. Her hands often shook in the morning.

The crossing beeped and she hurried over, reaching the door of the Italian and hovering a short beat before deciding just to push her way in. Square her shoulders, paint on her best smile and go for it.

The place was pretty empty apart from Chris, a deliberate move on his part she suspected. Whenever she met with producers they chose discreet venues, the last thing they wanted was fans overhearing or interrupting. He stood up the second she entered, he’d been waiting, and offered a handshake. Jenna took it, and somewhere inside her something was a little thrown. She was so used to being a complete part of _Who_ , Steven would huge her hello and goodbye, and now there was this producer who chose to be formal. Because he didn’t know her, because she didn’t fit anymore; she wasn’t part of that world.

That stung. Not part of the show world, not part of Peter’s. Jenna felt a bit breathless and was glad for the excuse to sit down.

‘Shall we order some drinks?’ Chris said resuming his seat. He had a pleasant almost jolly manner about him but beneath it Jenna could sense that he was not to be messed with. Still, she could hold her own with show runners these days.

‘Sure I’ll have a white wine,’ she said, putting her shades in her handbag. She glanced up when there was no response and found him looking hard at her.

‘No licence,’ he said flicking his eyes above the bar to show her the rows of fancy juices in bottles. ‘Lots of choice though, it’s a bit early in the day for me anyway,’ he added pointedly. Jenna flushed. Another deliberate move on his part.

‘Right, yeah, wasn’t thinking, I’ll have a pineapple juice,’ she changed her order and hoped her voice didn’t give away her irritation with him. Good start to the meeting, Jenna, great start.

Chris smiled graciously and beckoned the waiter who took their order and gave them menus. Jenna cast her eyes over the list feeling slightly nauseous as she always did first thing these days. She was still conscious of Chris watching her every move.

‘So,’ he said casually from behind his menu, ‘How are things with you these days? The crew still hark back to the ‘golden era’ when you and Peter worked together, its making me a bit paranoid to be honest. A lot to beat,’ he dropped the menu again slightly and smiled, raising his eyebrows comically.

‘Yeah, Team A, we always were, and Steven too,’ Salad? Salad couldn’t be too hard on her stomach right?

‘You must have a lot of fond memories…’ he prompted and she swallowed. She could really do without going into the detail of her fond memories, bring up things she was trying to supress, all the fun they’d had together, all of his kindness and support, and Christmas. Shit, there it was again, the damn memory popping up every time someone mentioned him. Wait wasn’t he invited too? She’d been so absorbed in trying to appear normal she’d not paid attention. Why were they ordering and he wasn’t there yet?

‘Yes, lots, um…. Didn’t you invite Peter?’ she asked.

Chris watched her for a second before answering and it felt like an hour, ‘I did,’ he confirmed. ‘He said he’d try but he probably won’t manage. He’s a very busy man these days though and of course…as you should know… he has other things on his plate.’

Again he watched her, knowing that she knew, he had sussed she hadn’t a clue. Jenna tried to wait it out but realised quickly that wasn’t an option. Whatever was going on between her and Peter had become critical to this meeting. It was probably the whole reason for it in truth. Chris didn’t appear to have scripts with him and if he had just wanted a theoretical yes or no to the role he could have done that on the phone.

‘The job always was very busy,’ she said lightly looking back at the menu, ‘The other things… well… that’s none of my business.’

Silence. The empty restaurant breathing around her. A chink of glasses as the waiter appeared and placed them before them.

‘Right,’ Chris said slowly. ‘You have no idea what’s happened do you?’

Jenna looked up sharply. ‘What’s happened?’ she tried to asked coolly but even she could hear the high note in her question.

Chris folded his menu closed and put it down, leaning slightly over the table on his elbows.

‘Jenna I always got the impression you guys were best buddies? When was the last time you spoke to Peter?’

‘I um… oh I don’t know, I’ve been busy and so has he obviously…’ she tried to hedge the question, Chris watching her the whole time. ‘Sometimes we don’t manage to catch up for a few weeks…’

‘A few weeks?’ he echoed disbelievingly. Jenna understood his disbelief, even the press knew they had texted every day, Peter had mentioned her in every interview and vice versa. Until Christmas.

‘Yeah so maybe um… early June? Yeah early June,’ she picked a timeframe and decided to stick by it. Chris eyeballed her across the table.

‘Early June,’ he said flatly.

There was another protracted silence while she struggled to keep her composure. Finally, Chris broke it.

‘You can’t have spoken in early June, this has been going on longer than that. Really since he came back from hiatus but worse in the last couple of months,’ he tilted his head, ‘You have no clue whatsoever do you?’ he asked again. He sounded horrified with her. Some friend.

Jenna sagged. Chris had probably spoken to Peter, after all he had said he was inviting him today. They must have talked about the possibility of Jenna’s episode and she couldn’t predict how he reacted to that or what story he went for. She was in trouble; she couldn’t dissemble her way out of it.

‘No, I’ve no idea,’ she said quietly picking at the edge of the menu, ‘We’ve not really spoken since Christmas, just a few texts, a few practicalities.

Chris raised his eyebrows in genuine shock. ‘Christmas? Jenna… I don’t understand…? You two were so close… inseparable, everyone talks about ow well you worked together, how you just fell into sync… How much you cared about each other, how warm….’ He trailed off, ‘Oh,’ he said.

She said nothing, aware of the heat building in her cheeks. Christ she could usually do better than this, she could usually hide what she was feeling, but she was just so bloody tired, and hungover and miserable and she suddenly didn’t have the energy any more.

‘Yeah, we were, all those things…did all of those things…’ she said and stopped, her throat catching.

Chris’s whole manner had altered just as quickly as her own. He reached a hand across the table and took hers.

‘Oh Jenna, I… we had no i _dea_ ,’ he said aghast. ‘All this time and… just _no idea_ ….’ He squeezed her hand. ‘Did it end at Christmas, was that it? And you’ve not spoken to him at all? You don’t know how he’s doing?’

She shook her head conscious she might start crying if she thought about it all too hard. ‘Is it his heart?’ she looked up, ‘Is he sick? Did he have another attack? It’s just he loves the show so much I can’t think what else would make him leave?’ she looked desperately at Chris who sighed and sat back in his chair.

‘It’s not his heart, he’s not sick in that way, he’s just….’ He rubbed his neck, ‘Look I don’t know if I’m even supposed to tell you any of this. I mean if you aren’t speaking, if he’s chosen not to say…’

Jenna deflated further. He had a point, an infuriating point, but a point none the less. Peter hadn’t told her anything, that was deliberate. Should she demand to know from his colleague. She didn’t want Chris to get into trouble but on the other hand, she couldn’t stand it, this shut out feeling.

‘Please just… I won’t tell a soul, I need to know if he’s ok…’ she recognised the sound of begging in her tone. Again Chris looked uncomfortable.

‘It’s not my place, especially now that I know you two were…. what exactly, an item? An affair? That sheds a whole new light on things.’

‘No it doesn’t, if he’s unwell…’

‘He’s not unwell…’

Jenna felt something snap inside her. ‘Look will you just tell me what the hell’s going on? You say he’s not sick, he looks bloody sick. I was his friend before we ever slept together, I’m worried, please just give me some idea!’

Chris averted his eyes, ‘We’re supposed to be talking about you coming back for an episode,’ he tried.

‘Later,’ she almost growled, ‘We can’t talk about any of that until I know. Tell me.’

‘Not my place. Now in theory it would take about five days to shoot your bit if we get ourselves organised…’

‘Stop it,’ Jenna said. He stopped and looked back at her.

‘It’s not for me to interfere with Jenna,’ he said, ‘Not now I know what was going on. If it’d just been a falling out between pals I could have sat you both down and tried to help resolve things for you both, but this… this is another thing entirely, its private and Peter is a very private person. So are you for that matter, at least you were when all that was going on…’

‘What does that mean?’ she said annoyed.

‘I mean you’re a lot more… public lately,’ he said.

Jenna’s anger grew, ‘How dare you? I didn’t come here to be judged!’

‘I’m not judging, I’m observing. You were hardly seen until the last six months, now there isn’t a party you don’t attend. I’m just saying, it’s not coincidence is it…’

Jenna folded her arms and sat back, glaring at him. ‘So what now?’ she asked, ‘I feel like you’ve dragged me here to give me a telling off.’

‘That’s not the case,’ Chris tried to placate her. ‘I only wanted to know if you’d like to do the show and ok yes I sense things were a bit off but I honestly didn’t know the extent of your… relationship. I thought you were friends, friends who’d stopped speaking or whatever and I could help. But this is a different kettle of fish. If you two are needing to be apart then we can just scrap the whole idea, I understand.’

‘You understand none of it,’ Jenna’s said lowly turning her glare to the wall.

She vaguely heard the waiter return and then his customary greeting.

‘Welcome to our humble family restaurant we hope you are having a nice day. Are you ready to order, what will it be?’ the young man had a smile in his voice.

‘I… don’t think we’re going to be staying I’m afraid,’ Chris said, ‘I’m terribly sorry but my colleague here…’

‘Will have the omelette,’ Peter said, ‘It’ll settle her stomach.’

Jenna’s head snapped round to find him standing next to the waiter who was gazing at him in awe. Peter wore his favourite black skinny jeans, one of his awful skull design t-shirts, and had slung his jacket over one arm. His hair was still as thick and silver as she remembered it but his whole self seemed thinner, more fragile. He was leaning on a stick which immediately worried her.

Looking up she saw him remove his shades, his blue green eyes a dull shade of grey in the shadow of the restaurant.

‘Hello Jenna,’ he said softly, ‘I’m glad you made it.’


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An omelette for lunch.... and some big revelations

Everything around her stopped as she looked at him. Peter. She couldn’t speak. The thousands of conversations she’d had in her head with him over the last six months all merged into one, and jumbled. Nothing would come out, her mouth went dry. Peter was here, in the restaurant, sharing space with her when he had been so distant; sharing air, watching her with the mildest curiosity as she gawped inelegantly.

Jenna closed her mouth and tried again. ‘Hi,’ she managed and cursed inwardly. It seemed so inadequate after everything that had happened. Peter smiled just a little and edged around the table.

‘ _Hi_ ,’ he emphasised with that silly thing he did with his eyebrows. He slipped onto the chair to her left, her side of the table and she jumped a little when his knee knocked against hers. ‘Sorry,’ he said, any trace of bravado leaving him.

‘It’s fine,’ Jenna looked nervously back down at her menu and then at her drink. Why was he sitting beside her? Why wasn’t he on Chris’s side of the table? Oh now she would over analyse everything, everything would be of significance. She took a sip of pineapple juice, to try and rehydrate her horribly sandy mouth. She could hardly swallow and her lips felt stuck together. Lip balm. She reached for her bag and regretted it, knocked against Peter’s thigh as she bent down and immediately recoiled.

He was watching her performance with a just past neutral expression on his face. What was that a hint of? Amusement? Embarrassment?

‘Are you ok?’ he asked, ‘You seem a bit jumpy.’

‘Fine, just… ‘she gestured, ‘Feel a bit crowded.’

He raised his eyebrows at that. ‘You feel, crowded?’ he asked, ‘By… me?’

She could see Chris’s expression opposite her as he tried not to hear anything too personal.

‘Not because it’s you, just because, well we’re in a corner and the table feels a bit cramped…’

‘Do you want me to move?’ Peter asked, the tiniest edge of irritability about his question, but he shifted as thought to stand.

‘No! No…’ they locked eyes for a minute and she could see him trying to read her, maybe succeed. She wished she could say the same but Peter could be very guarded when he chose to be and right now he chose. Jenna thought of the times his emotions ran freely across his overly expressive face, the way he laughed and smiled practically all the time. He seemed so different now. A few of those gestures remained, glimpses of his good humour, but the longer he sat there the more she saw was missing, warped or wrong. Who was this man?

She stared back at the menu, ‘So omelette you think?’ she asked him.

‘I’ll take one too,’ he responded, ‘Mushroom, something healthy.’

‘What will you have Jenna?’ Chris asked out of a desperate need to say something, ‘Plain or…’

‘She’ll put some cheese in it,’ Peter said folding the menu shut and reaching over for hers, he handed the two of them back to the waiting waiter who looked deeply uncomfortable at the increasing tension in his restaurant.

‘Wait! Not cheese,’ Jenna protested, ‘I have a dress to fit into next weekend, there’s a party...’

Peter shot her a look she’d rarely seen him use, all sharpness in his features.

‘A bit of cheese won’t harm you,’ he said, ‘You look ill Jenna, for God’s sake woman eat something.’

She bit back her reply and played with her glass, passing it between two hands. Chris shifted uncomfortably opposite them.

‘I’ll take an omelette too. Cheese and ham,’ he returned his menu and fidgeted for a second before diving in the deep end.

‘So the finale…’ he started. Peter, whose eyes she could feel boring into her cheek, turned back to the producer.

‘I’m fine with her being in it if she wants to be. Its Jenna’s call,’ he said.

‘You’ve not seen the script yet?’ Chris said.

‘I trust you, and I trust you to do something special with the character of Clara.’

‘What happens in it? Roughly?’ Jenna asked.

‘What happens in all these finales,’ Chris smiled, ‘They are reunited, in this case fighting ice monsters together. The Doctor admits to her that he never forgot her and never would. Clara breaks down distraught that he had carried that with him all that time, he comforts her…. Then his wounds begin to really impact on him, poison? Radioactivity? I’m yet to decide but he starts dying right there in her arms just as they reconnected. All that time she thought she’d saved him from that pain, he’d been living with it every day. She could have stayed… maybe. It’s a tearjerker… Jenna? Jenna?’

She looked up at him and found his rounded face to be panic stricken, ‘When I said it was a tear jerker I didn’t expect it to trigger tears here and now, I’ve not even finished it!’

‘What?’ she frowned.

Jenna felt a hand on her face, soft against her cheek.

‘He means this,’ Peter said, wiping a tear away.

His touch, God how she had missed his touch. And now he was leaning into her she could smell him, his aftershave, his skin. It was too much and every memory of them together came crashing over her at once, triggered by that scent. Jenna’s chest grew tight and she struggled to breath in. She grabbed her bag again and stood unsteadily, grasping the back of the chair for support.

‘I can’t…’ she said, ‘I can’t do this, please, let me pass,’ she could feel that numb tingling sensation in her hands again and the thud-thud of her heart. ‘Please let me out!’ Peter stood up beside her and grasped her upper arms.

‘Jenna, just stay calm, everything is ok, just slow down your breathing….’

‘I can’t do this, I shouldn’t have come today, I don’t know what I was thinking, _if_ I was thinking, what I thought would happen. How can I be in the same room with you never mind film that… that… torment of a scene….? No, just let me go, let me go home…’

She tried to push past him but he just held her tighter, she wriggled and ended up being clasped against his chest, sobbing, as a horrified Chris looked on. She was aware of the restaurant staff watching too. They’d probably take pictures on their phones for twitter. Her meltdown would be more than just public, but all over social media.

‘Let me go,’ she tried again weakly.

‘No, Jenna, you’re staying…’

‘You can’t make me….’

He looked down at her as she began to calm, ‘Yes… I can, and I will… see.’ He raised his arms and she realised he’d released her a minute before, and that she was still tucked against his chest out of her own volition. Jenna glanced up and into his eyes, blue green again now she was close to him. He smiled. Her breathing eased, her muscles relaxed, and he spotted it.

‘Let’s try this again,’ he said soothingly, ‘Hi.’

Jenna stood against him, her hands flat over his pectorals and her chin almost resting on them. Peter wound his arms around her and into a friendly hug. She could feel the vestiges of her tears drying on her cheeks and the butterflies in her stomach being shooed away by his warmth and scent.

‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I missed you.’

Something flickered behind his pupils and he pulled her tighter to him for a second, kissed her hair. ‘Oh Jenna, I missed you too. Where do I start when it comes to the last six months or so?’ he sighed.

There was a cough behind them and Chris waved awkwardly, gesturing to the omelettes which were appearing from the kitchen.

Jenna looked questioningly at Peter.

‘You need to eat,’ he said and ushered her into the chair she had so recently tried to escape. She dropped her bag and relented. She saw Peter shift his seat further from her.

‘I… you don’t need to move; I was just…. I don’t know what I was just doing but really, stay where you are,’ she said awkwardly.

‘I’m not crowding you?’ Peter said with a slightly mocking tone, mocking but gentle.

‘You’re not crowding me,’ Jenna replied. ‘Sorry…’

The food arrived and the three of them, glad of an excuse not to force conversation began to eat. Once again Jenna could feel Peter’s eyes on her, appraising her, how much she was managing, how thin or otherwise she might be looking. She could just tell, from the ‘tone of his gaze,’ as he used to refer to it as, that he was concerned about her appearance. If he was concerned about that, she could hardly wait until he was concerned about her behaviour. He was going to be so angry, so disappointed. Her recovering mood plunged again; so ashamed of her.

‘I’m er… sorry if the idea for the finale has upset you,’ Chris said from nowhere, ‘That wasn’t my intention. I was explaining to Jenna before you got here, I had no idea about… you know… I thought you’d just fallen out as mates.’

Peter looked up at him sharply and then round at Jenna.

‘You told him,’ he said as a statement of fact.

She felt a little jerk of panic in her chest. ‘He guessed, I didn’t come here and blab I promise, he just… he saw it in me I suppose, I haven’t told anyone at all…’

Peter frowned, ‘No-one at all?’

‘No! I promise, I knew how much damage it could do to you, to your marriage…. Our work…’

He laughed shortly, ‘Huh,’ he said cutting a piece of omelette with the edge of his fork, ‘The damage it could do to my marriage was done at Christmas, Jenna.’

‘I know but if it hit the press, you guys, you wouldn’t have a chance to repair things. This way I was silent, no-one would be asking you questions. I told nobody.’

Peter paused, thoughtful and sad, ‘That must have been very hard, very lonely,’ he said.

‘It… it was,’ she conceded almost silently. He squeezed her wrist briefly with his long fingers.

‘She didn’t tell me,’ Chris confirmed, breaking the moment, ‘But it was written all over her face, I just sort of… well it dawned on me just how close you had always been, I added two and two.’

Peter chewed a mouthful tensely and swallowed. Chris took it as an opportunity to continue.

‘So, yes, please accept my apologies. Its perhaps better if I look at another script, different pretence, maybe just leave the whole Clara thing out of it…’

‘No!’ They said it together, both raising their heads from their plates at the same instant. Peter glanced at her and caught her eye, a familiar heat spreading through her as they connected. He smirked and she followed. It seemed they still had they synchronicity they had always had. And Clara? She had to be in that episode, Jenna sensed they both felt that.

‘How long will it take you to finish the script?’ Peter asked Chris. The producer raised his eyebrows and began to fumble with his glasses. Taking them off and blowing on the lenses, polishing them.

‘Well the majority is done, it shouldn’t take more than a week. I just didn’t want to finish the thing without knowing where you stood, if it was even a possibility.’

‘We’ll do it,’ Peter said confidently.

‘What? I mean yes, but… the storyline, maybe it’d be better just a brief cameo?’ Jenna squeaked. ‘Peter I think we should talk about this?’

‘Yes, maybe have a chat first,’ Chris said, ‘I can make myself scarce if that’s what’s needed?’ he gestured over his shoulder with one thumb. Jenna looked at his plate, his omelette half eaten, he clearly wasn’t finished but how awkward he must feel gooseberrying between two colleagues he never knew were involved in an illicit affair. He’d only come here to fix a friendship and offer a happy ending for Clara and her Doctor.

‘Yes,’ Jenna said, ‘We’ll have to talk but in the meantime Chris, please finish your lunch.’

‘Do you know what,’ he said standing, ‘That omelette was pretty filling and er… I’m losing track of time, there’s a place, I need to be…’ he took out his wallet and placed several notes on the table. ‘On me,’ he said.

‘Chris,’ Peter said a little tiredly, ‘Just stay…’

‘No… really,’ he was already pulling on his coat and making his way to the door, ‘I’ll give you guys a call when the script is done, yes?’ the bell on the back of the door rang out and he vanished.

The restaurant fell silent again but for the clinks behind the non alcoholic bar. God how Jenna wished it sold alcohol right now. She gulped her juice and took a bite of omelette. It felt dry in her mouth even though she could see it was perfectly cooked. She began to wonder if she could swallow it at all and took another gulp of juice, fought her throat to do the job and finally manged after a struggle. She wouldn’t be taking another bite soon.

Peter pushed his plate away barely touched, Jenna inspected it from the corner of her eye.

‘You need to eat too,’ she pointed out, ‘You’ve got thinner.’

‘I get thinner very easily, I’ve been busy.’

‘The show?’

‘And other things.’

‘What other things?’ Jenna couldn’t hide the sheer concern in her voice. ‘What’s Chris on about when he says you’ve got all this other stuff to worry about. He wouldn’t tell me anything.’

‘I asked him not to,’ Peter said simply. ‘There was no reason for you to know, you’d only have worried.’

Jenna’s heart sank. So he really hadn’t wanted her to be involved, to know the details of whatever he was facing. That put her in her place. She used to be his confidante. Not now. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I see.’

She heard his chair turn slightly towards her. ‘Jen,’ he said, ‘Scoot round, let me see you.’

She supposed she could manage that, she wanted to see him properly too. Jenna scooted around in her chair until she was sitting side on, her knees touching his. Peter took both her hands and rubbed the backs of them with his thumbs. He felt warm and solid, his skin soft.

‘Hey,’ he said, bending and peering up at her, ‘Look at me.’

She looked up, tried to sit a bit straighter and look less of a wreck, but he’d already seen it, it was written in his eyes.

‘Oh Jenna, what have you been doing to yourself?’ he asked kindly. ‘Why _would_ you do this to yourself, you are worth so much more. Why hit the self-destruct so hard?’

Where did she start with that one? She couldn’t even be truthful with herself about the amount of damage she had done in the last six months. She hid her face again. ‘It’s been a weird year,’ she said vaguely, ‘I’ve done some stuff…. I probably shouldn’t have.’ She couldn’t trust herself to go further.

Peter sighed resignedly with a slight shake of his head.

‘Ok,’ he said exhaling hard, ‘I need to bring you up to speed don’t I?’ he glanced at her and she nodded.

‘Please…’ she said.

He looked down at their joined hands.

‘Ok so… first off I think I’ve gone about this wrong,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘Cutting contact even when I could see you were struggling. I can’t stand to see you like this. I’m so sorry if I messed up when I should have been helping you. I had my issues and you had yours. I tried just to stay out of it and let you do your own thing, I had no right to interfere and I didn’t want to upset you so I kept my distance. But I can’t just watch. This is my fault, the booze and the blokes…’

‘That’s no-one’s business,’ Jenna said defensively.

‘Oh, but it is,’ Peter contradicted her, ‘I can’t help but think if maybe I’d just let you know earlier, I could have spared you some of it, that if you’d had the facts you wouldn’t have been so destructive. That you’d have hope. But God that sounds so arrogant, like I’m so great I can fix everything when really you have every right to hate me. Anyway, I couldn’t tell you. I wasn’t in a fit state. It felt like my world had disintegrated, I was no good to anyone, especially not you…. I needed time, Jenna, I needed some thinking time, healing time. It was a disaster zone at first and I didn’t want to drag you into only for things to go wrong…. I…’

Jenna was watching his face as he spoke, the emotions were back, mixed, confused and hard to follow. He was all over the place and she couldn’t follow.

‘Peter, stop…’ she said suddenly, finding strength from somewhere to finally ask the question she had been dreading; her mind filled with images of him sick in hospital as he had been before, or worse. She had to find out, was about to find out what was dragging him under, and it terrified her.

‘What are you talking about?’ she asked, ‘What didn’t you tell me?’

‘I…’ He stopped mid speech, looked at her with apology in his eyes. Apology and something else she couldn’t put name to. Shame maybe, guilt, something worse.

‘Jenna…’ he said quietly, his voice devoid of emotion, ‘Elaine and I split three months ago. We’re getting a divorce.’

Heartbreak. That was what she saw.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A frank conversation leads to a fresh start.

She just looked at him. Really looked at him. At his eyes and his skin and his hair, at the changes she found there, and the overall fatigue, the tell-tale signs of despondence, and it suddenly made sense. Heartbreak, guilt and shame; the end of a marriage triggered by what? Christmas? Something before that? Was she to blame? Was he? A split so severe as to seek divorce. Really? Was it that simple as to say ‘it’s over’ so fast and proceed to court? There were so many questions that Jenna didn’t know where to start, _if_ to start. How much of it would Peter tell her, how much did she have a right to know these days?

‘Divorce,’ she said, her hands still in his, ‘You and Elaine?’

‘Yes,’ he said with something of resignation to his tone, ‘All decided upon, currently in the process of. Of course it’ll be a long business, there’s thirty years’ worth of stuff to divide up, the house and the money and the little things… it’s going to be a major operation…’

‘Peter,’ Jenna looked at him oddly, ‘It’s not about the practicalities…’

He glanced up, ‘Some of it is,’ he said, ‘at the moment it’s not too awkward, I live in Wales most of the time anyway but in a few months I’ll need a base in London again.’ He paused, ‘Probably London anyway, I’m not entirely sure…’ he wandered off again into his thoughts. Jenna couldn’t keep up as he skipped from one to another with no particular direction.

‘Peter slow down, you can’t just skim over news like this,’ she said, ‘I want to understand. You left at Christmas to fix your marriage, Elaine was absolutely determined to sort it out, and the next thing I hear is you split three months ago?’

‘The fixing it bit didn’t last very long,’ he admitted. Jenna watched his face, watched the superficial mask he was struggling to keep in place over his feelings. She saw him glance around the restaurant and then look back at her hands. The penny dropped.

‘You don’t want to talk about this here,’ she said. Peter made a slight movement with his head.

‘It’s a long story and not one I want getting out in public. That is to say it’s probably not a long story given we only got back together for three or four months, but its personal and upsetting and I could do without crying over my omelette while someone wanders in, spots us and asks for a selfie.’ He tried to smile a little but it quickly vanished again.

‘Ok,’ Jenna said, ‘Fair enough.’

He stopped and sat still in front of her, his mins obviously drifting in and out of thoughts from the past and the present. Jenna could quite literally see him chewing over things as he nibbled his lower lip, and the passage of more difficult thoughts when he ran his hand through his hair before reclaiming hers.

‘Do you want to go somewhere else?’ she asked after a minute. ‘Somewhere private we can talk?’ Again another slight movement from his head and he let go of her hands and stood. Jenna saw him wince and retrieve his stick before he walked her to the door and opened it for her.

She’d forgotten it was a sunny day; she didn’t feel sunny. The gloomy restaurant had sapped her of spirit and contributed to her nerves when Peter had arrived. Now she stood in bright light and warmth outside and he was next to her again for the first time in an age. They began to make their way down the street towards the carpark where her little car was waiting to take them to their destination, as yet undecided. Jenna hit the button for the crossing again. She saw Peter lean down slightly and rub his leg.

‘Have you bust that knee again?’ she asked as the green man came on. ‘It was a safe topic until they got home. Home? Would that be OK? Her house? She couldn’t think of anywhere else.

‘Guilty,’ he answered, setting off across the road.

‘Running down a corridor?’ she queried.

‘Old age,’ he corrected, ‘I don’t need to do anything in particular anymore, things just go wrong.’

‘What things?’ Jenna asked with concern. She tried to keep her cool, she tried to keep the worry from her voice but it always emerged no matter how distant and aloof she tried to make herself. She was just that kind of person, she cared about stuff, and often had to tone it down or be seen as nosy. Today however, she was aiming for seeming neutral and coming out neurotic.

Peter looked down at her as they walked, limping and putting a fair bit of weight through his stick. ‘I’m fine it’s just wear and tear. Remember I’m ancient now, practically drawing a pension. There isn’t a joint that isn’t arthritic or an organ that’s compromised,’ he said jokingly.

‘Shut up it’s not funny. I’ve been frantic wondering if you’ve been really sick, if that’s why you’re quitting…’

‘Ah,’ he said with realisation, ‘I see…. You thought I was at death’s door?’

Maybe, maybe not that bad. Chris kept insisting you weren’t anyway, and now _you’re_ saying its nothing but look at you.’

Peter made a show of looking down at himself and giving her an offended look.

‘Thanks,’ he smirked, ‘I don’t look that bad! But I admit maybe not looking my best, huh?’

‘Just tell me if there’s something else,’ Jenna pushed, ‘I get that the split would have its effect on you but… what about your health in general?’

‘I’m OK,’ Peter said with a slight grimace as he walked, ‘I’ve not developed anything terminal or contagious. It’s just been a difficult time; it’s taken its toll….’ His voice became distant again and she saw him lurch a little to the right with a particularly strong limp. ‘Phew is that your car there?’ he pointed to the near side of the carpark.

‘Yes,’

‘Thank God, I think my leg’s about to give out,’ he confessed. ‘Honestly it’s agony first thing, then it improves a bit and I forget about it, and by mid-afternoon I’m back where I started.’

Jenna let him into the car first and then walked around to the driver’s side. When she got in she saw him massaging his knee, fingers digging deep into the muscle. He extracted a silver strip of pills from one pocket in his jacket and glanced around the car.

‘There’s water in the glove box,’ Jenna offered.

‘Thanks,’ he said and helped himself, downing a couple of the tablets and shutting his eyes for a second as he swallowed. She could see him breathing slowly, regaining control. She couldn’t stop herself.

‘You ok?’

‘Mmmph,’ he confirmed. He opened his eyes again and chucked the bottle back in the glovebox. She could practically see him telling himself to get a grip and ignore the pain. Sure enough his next statement confirmed it. ‘Distract me,’ he said as she started the engine. ‘Let’s stop talking about my heath… _which is fine_ ,’ he added quickly, ‘and let’s talk about yours.’

Oh. Jenna really didn’t want to go there. She had a fair idea what was coming and somehow hearing it from Peter more than anyone, would both anger and upset her.

‘I’m fine too,’ she pulled out the carpark. She heard him roll his eyes in disbelief.

‘Jenna…’

‘Honestly!’ she replied a little too quickly and squeakily.

Peter sighed next to her and turned his head to look out the window.

‘One of the issues you and I have is communication,’ he said. ‘We are great at the banter, great at the discussion around projects, politics or world events but stick us in a room and ask us to discuss how we feel…. We’re disastrous.’

Jenna kept her eyes on the road and said nothing.

‘See,’ Peter said gesturing towards her. I’m Scottish, what’s your excuse?’

She laughed, a natural laugh that bubbled out of her without strain, and looked across at him. Peter smiled softly and looked down.

‘Jen, we have an awful lot potentially to sort out today so really, we both need to be honest. Do you think we can manage that?.’

‘I am honest!’

‘No… you aren’t,’ he said slowly. Peter paused and then took a deep breath, ‘Your health… your wellbeing Jenna, you say you’re fine but it’s all over the news. Booze, blokes, parties, weight loss. You’ve become the antithesis of the old you. One glass of wine and you were ready for an early night. You guarded your privacy, monitored your reputation, worked hard. What happened?’

Jenna bristled slightly. ‘What do you think happened?’

She could feel him looking at her, feel him hurting.

‘I… this can’t be because of me? Not entirely?’ he said.

‘I don’t want to flatter you,’ she said, ‘So no, it’s not all down to you,’ they stopped at traffic lights and waited awkwardly. ‘My life’s changed a lot,’ she said after a moment, ‘And some of that is down to what happened at Christmas, the effect it had on me. Some of it is down to other things. It’s a mix.’

‘It’s not a good mix,’ he commented from beside her.

‘ Do we have to do this in the car?’ Jenna snapped in frustration.

‘No, you’re right,’ he backed down, ‘Where are we going anyway?’

‘My place,’ she said, ‘It’s private.’

‘It’s not exactly neutral,’ he commented.

‘Why do we need neutral, what do you think I’m going to do to you?’

‘I don’t think you’re going to do anything but I think you will be in denial and being in your own home will strengthen your argument.’

‘I will not be in denial,’ Jenna said, ‘If anything you’re the one in denial about your health.’

‘What are you my Doctor now?’ Peter asked.

She could feel herself winding up horribly so she bit her tongue and just drove. When the little car pulled up outside her house Peter didn’t wait to be invited and let himself out of it, pausing on the pavement clearly trying to get his leg to co-operate. Jenna winced at the sight. Every time she looked at him closely she saw something else that worried her about his appearance or behaviours. She went ahead and up the steps while he followed slowly.

‘I’ll make tea,’ she said her irritation with him dissipating as soon as she saw him limping up her steps. ‘Take your time, let the painkillers kick in.’

She heard a mumbled thank you and went through to the kitchen, grabbing the kettle and filling it before searching for a clean pair of mugs. She hunted for a moment before coming to a standstill in the centre of the room. Shit. She’d forgotten what a state the place was in. She hadn’t washed up in weeks. She’d been in and out of the house so often, function after function, dinner after lunch. She barely spent time there and when she did she more or less came in, dumped stuff and left again.

She opened a cupboard and saw it bare of crockery where it was usually stacked with mugs. Quickly she took two that seemed moderately clean and rinsed them. She stuck a teabag in each and opened the fridge. There were three bottles of milk, two of which looked positively dangerous and the last one unopened but out of date. She decided to risk it and opened the cap. Yes, might get away with it. Into the tea, no curdling. OK.

Jenna took the mugs into her living room. Peter to her surprise was by the window rather than sitting resting his leg. She took a moment to figure out why.

‘Jenna,’ he said turning to look at her, ‘What in god’s name has happened in here? It’s a tip. You were always so careful about your house, neat freak you used to be. What’s this?’ he gestured and she looked around her. Clothes were cast over the backs of the sofas, shoes cluttered the floor, magazines, empty cups and mugs, some in the early stages of mould, fruit doing the same in a bowl on a cluttered table covered in opened and unopened mail.

‘I… I just get so busy…’ she started.

Peter frowned at her, ‘Jenna you’re living in a pigsty and half starving yourself to death. You’re out boozing every night and having casual flings with celebrities.’

She stood facing him with something like defiance.

‘Well you are hardly looking after yourself are you?’ she said, ‘Look at you, thin, in pain, miserable. You look so miserable Peter.’

‘My marriage just ended!’

‘It didn’t look like your marriage was going well anyway,’ she commented, ‘Or what happened at Christmas wouldn’t have happened.’

‘That’s not the point!’

‘Yes, it is!

‘’No… it isn’t. Granted things had cooled, things weren’t as happy, things were crawling towards the inevitable, but she was till my wife. Our marriage was still a huge part of what made me who I am. You understood that at Christmas, you could get your head around the concept that even if we weren’t good together anymore, losing Elaine would have a massive impact on me. You said you understood, you told me you got why I had to go and try one last time.’

Jenna glared to her right, away from him, arms folded. ‘Yes I said all that stuff.’

‘So what? It’s not the case now?’ he asked.

‘I can still see why you would be hurting,’ she said quietly.

‘So what’s with the meltdown?’ he asked, ‘What’s with the self-destructs, with… this?’ he gestured round the room.

Jenna’s eyes snapped back to him. ‘Because when I said that stuff I was saying it so you wouldn’t feel terrible. You’d had a heart attack Peter, I didn’t want you to feel more stress. So yes, I sent you away because it was the correct things to do and then I spent the next twenty-four hours sobbing my heart out and just wishing… wishing….’ She wiped her eyes.

’You think it was easy for me?’ she asked. ‘Watching you go that day? Being cut off from you while you experimented with getting your marriage back on line. Not being able to speak to you at all, my best friend, someone I’d discovered I was in love with, and told me he loved me, and who days later got torn away from me? You didn’t even put up a fight Peter, you decided to go and you just went with my blessing. You relied on me being a good enough person to understand and not be an embarrassment … so why do you think I hit self-destruct Peter? I had no options left. I couldn’t tell anyone. I couldn’t _do_ anything. And it hurt! The whole thing just hurt so much!’

‘Jenna…’ he sounded winded, horrified. She slumped down amongst the designer clothes cast over one couch and put her face in her hands.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said from behind them, ‘I know why you did what you did…. I know but… you weren’t here, you don’t know what it was like to be _here_ … I know I’ve messed up so much, people think so much less of me now… but I didn’t know what to do… I felt like my heart was breaking…’

Peter slid down onto the couch beside her, pulling skirts and blouses out from under him and putting his arm around her. Jenna leaned into him.

‘Why did you take so long?’ she asked.

Peter sighed. ‘Because… because I was heartbroken too.’

‘Then you should have called.’

‘It wasn’t just you Jenna, and please don’t take that the wrong way. Of course I was upset when I left that day, but I was also upset and confused about Elaine. I tried, I really did. I felt I had to, but that confusion wouldn’t lift. I kept thinking of you and then I would feel guilty and try doubly hard with her. But it just didn’t work. Three months in we split and you’re right I could have called then but… I had a marriage to mourn for. I know it sounds dramatic, I know it sounds like I didn’t know who I loved more, but you don’t just stop caring. Believe me there were times I wanted to run to you but it wouldn’t have been fair if I was asking you to comfort me because I missed my wife…. Or rather not her, but the _life_ we had… it felt complex, it _is_ complex… I didn’t know if I was coming or going, what I was feeling and I didn’t trust myself not to hurt you with it.’

Jenna tried to take in his words but her head was spinning with restless emotion. All she could focus on was the fact that he was there, holding her again; that she could smell him, feel the rumble of his voice in his chest. Everything might be tangled and difficult but he was there.

‘This is a mess,’ Jenna said quietly.

‘Which bit?’ he chuckled darkly.

‘All of it. You’ve lost three decades of your life and are trying to come to terms with whatever that means… I’ve gone off the deep end and wrecked my reputation, made myself ill with stress and drink and worry.’

‘Both things can be fixed,’ Peter said. ‘Given time and patience.’

Jenna looked up at him, found him looking back. He looked ghastly, like he hadn’t eaten for days, like sleep was a complete stranger. ‘You look as exhausted as I feel,’ she said.

‘Thanks,’ he smiled gently. Jenna lifted one hand to his cheek and stroked her thumb there across the traces of stubble she found. The whole time his eyes watched her face, his warm breath on her skin. In a moment she found she couldn’t hold out and leaned forward into his lips, kissing him.

Peter’s arm tightened around her instantly and she found herself being drawn against him with urgency. He opened his mouth to her and the kiss deepened with a hint of desperation added to the longing which had built since they last met. Jenna wrapped her arms around his neck, stroked his hair and let herself relax on his chest as she draped herself over him and forced them both to lean on the back of the couch. Finally ,the kiss broke and they found themselves in quite a different position from when they started. Peter laughed as Jenna tried to straighten her clothes with a slight blush to her cheeks.

‘Can we really fix this?’ she asked.

‘Do you want to?’ Peter asked seriously, ‘I’m mean really want to, long term. Because you’re right you and I, we are a mess, individually and together. If we chose to try and sort this out properly, publicly, we are making a huge commitment and it’s not going to be easy at all. There will be hostility from all quarters, the media, our families, friends….’

‘I know,’ Jenna said, her mood sinking again. ‘It’s all so difficult. How can something that’s so good when we’re together be so difficult out there in the world? I don’t know how to start? Where to start?’

Peter kissed her forehead and smoothed her hair back gently, a warm smile emerging in his tired features. ‘Let’s not scare ourselves too early in the process,’ he said, ‘Why don’t we just try the weekend first?’

‘OK,’ she said doubtfully, half to herself, ‘The weekend.’

Peter leaned forward and grabbed the tea from the chaotic coffee table, handed Jenna her mug.

‘To the weekend,’ he said, chinking them together, ‘And new beginnings.’


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenna and Peter tell each other a few secrets about the last few months. Angst.... then smut

The tea was finished, the dregs long gone cold, and the sun was moving across the window as time passed. Jenna and Peter had barely moved, a strange stillness settling over them both to be savoured for the first time in months. It occurred to her just how tired she was, physically and mentally, how fast-living her life had been and how unprepared and unsuited she was to it. This, here in the room, was what she craved; not parties, booze and endless media appearances.

She was leaning against Peter’s side, her head on his chest, heart lub-dubbing against her ear and his steady deep breathing lulling her. He was dozing and his sleeping presence made her pause, not wishing to disturb him. She was supposed to be at an event in just a few hours, she forgot exactly what, an art exhibition? To attend would mean moving, bathing, dressing, make -up and then once there smiling, chatting and being convincingly social and interested. Jenna snuggled closer to Peter and felt him respond in kind in his sleep. She didn’t have the dress with her anyway, it was another loan and she’d forgotten to collect it. What a shame; she’d have to stay put.

‘Mmm,’ a sleepy noise from Peter let her know he was waking. She looked up as he cuddled her closer and finally, slowly opened his eyes.

‘You…’ she said pointedly, ‘Are completely knackered.’

‘Um… yes…. I often am I’m afraid, sorry.’

‘What’s that all about?’ Jenna asked. ‘I mean I’ve partying ‘til the small hours, what’s your excuse?’

She saw some pass over his face and then it was gone, but it looked curiously like guilt and panic stirred together. Jenna frowned. ‘Peter?’

‘Well you know what the show is like,’ he deflected, standing to collect the mugs from the table. He found the two they had used and then sighed as he discovered several more abandoned there.

‘You’ve only been back filming for a couple of months,’ Jenna said, ‘Usually takes you until about six or seven months to get really jiggered by it.’

‘Yes , well that was before the heart attack,’ he said and exited to the kitchen.

Something pricked her suspicions so she followed him into the room where she found him unpacking the murky contents of her sink.

‘Jesus, girl, how are you alive? I lived in cleaner student digs in the seventies.’

‘Don’t change the subject.’

‘Don’t _you_ change the subject,’ he teased, locating the plug and pulling it out. The sink made an unhealthy glooping noise and they both grimaced.

‘Seriously,’ Jenna said, trying not to look at the debris around her, ‘You were doing well for a bit. Not a single chest pain…’

Peter looked guilty. Jenna made a despairing gesture. 'You _were_ still getting pains?'

'Some.'

'Anything _else_?'

‘No just a bout of pneumonia,’ he joked, refilling the sink.

‘But then you started getting your strength back, didn't you? I know you felt it was all slow but you were doing well after such a bad heart attack, the follow up people we saw in Wales thought so anyway.’

‘Yes my doctor in London agreed,’ he said, ‘But, you know, filming is a major undertaking. I know it’s only been a couple of months but they are long days, physically demanding… even though Chris has made concessions in that area and I’m forever grateful. You don’t realise how much it takes out of you until you’ve lost your fitness…’

Jenna listened leaning against the counter. ‘You are recovering though, right? You’ve not had another attack?’

‘Jenna for the last time, I’ve not had another attack,’ he said looking directly into her eyes. She looked back at him just as hard and then finally conceded.

‘OK.’

‘OK?’ he checked.

‘Yes, yes… I just keep getting this sense you’re not being quite one hundred percent about the last few months. I mean I’m not an expert on hearts but it seemed to take you a long time to get back to filming. Am I missing something? Are you keeping something from me?’

Peter cleared the draining board and stacked the now clean mugs on it, rinsing out the sink and letting the water drain away.

‘A lot has happened,’ he told her, ‘What your sensing isn’t me lying to you I promise, it’s just there’s so much complicated stuff to say.’

‘So start saying….’ Jenna instructed.

Peter turned to her, the fatigue still evident on his face. ‘Really? Now?’ he asked. ‘Aren’t there other ways to spend the rest of this afternoon?’

Jenna cocked her head at him and bit her lip suddenly distracted from the mystery of Peter’s health or otherwise. ‘Maybe?’ she said.

He laughed, ‘I wasn’t meaning that necessarily.’

Jenna felt a distinctive wave of disappointment. ‘Oh… ok… ‘

‘Please don’t take offense,’ Peter said catching her expression, ‘This week’s been particularly draining. I don’t usually come back to London, so that’s been additional. And as for today, those have been some tough conversations. I feel like I’ve been through the ringer a bit.’

Jenna was about to probe him again on what exactly was going on when she saw him sway against the sink and grab it to steady himself.

‘Peter!’ she put one arm around his back, ‘God you really are worn out…’ she stopped and looked down at her hand, resting now on his ribs. ‘And you lecture me about losing weight… Peter there’s nothing of you.’

‘It’ll soon go back on… um… do you think I could lie down.?’

Jenna stared at him questioningly, ‘Lie down? Um… yes… yes of course. Come on…’ she ferried him out of the kitchen and carefully up the stairs. A slow painful process as he continued to favour his right leg. Finally she got him up to her room and sat him on the bed. His face was devoid of colour by now and he looked increasingly like he hadn’t slept for weeks rather than days.

Peter shoved himself around and lay back on the bed fully clothed. Jenna sighed.

‘You can’t lie there like that, it’s a hot day and you’ll wake up all sick and clammy feeling.’ She tackled his shoes first.

‘I’ll be fine,’ he said quietly as they came away. Jenna scooted up the edge of the bed so she could lean over his chest and tug up his T-shirt. She’d exposed a little of his belly when he stopped her hand.

‘Peter this is no time to be shy, it’s not like I haven’t seen it before.’

‘I’m ok as I am. I only need an hour or two, I’m just a bit dizzy... tired. Come and lie next to me, talk to me. Tell me what on earth you’ve been doing the last few months.’

Jenna swallowed. ‘You probably don’t want to know.’

‘Oh I know a lot of it already. I’ve had a lot of time to read gossip magazines. I want your version of things.’

Jenna hesitated, ‘You know normally those magazines are just trash, they talk nonsense but… I’m not even going to try and deny most of the things they reported.’

‘Sex drugs and rock and roll?’ he asked without humour.

‘More or less,’ Jenna averted her eyes. ‘I’ve dated a lot, brief things, one night things…’ she watched his reaction carefully, saw his carefully composed features absorb the information without further judgement. ‘I was lonely,’ she said hearing how pathetic it sounded, ‘But I shouldn’t have gone there.’

‘And the drink?’ he wasn't letting her away with anything, she saw. Why did she feel so scared when he asked her that?

‘It’s not a problem,' she said a little defensively, 'That bit they got wrong. I mean, yes, I get myself into bother but that’s because I don’t care… _didn’t_ care what people thought, I was just hurting. So I drank… but I can stop any time.’

‘How about now?’ he suggested.

‘Hey I’ve just get you back, you don’t want to celebrate with a glass of champagne?’ she joked uncomfortably.

‘T-total these days,’ Peter said gravely, ‘More or less.’

Jenna’s face fell without her permission and she saw him notice. ‘ Oh… why? Is this more health stuff I’m not getting to hear about…?’ she asked.

‘Not a problem is it?’ Peter tested, refusing to be waylaid.

‘No… no that’s fine….’ Jenna could feel him watching her. She remembered ordering wine at lunch but not getting any because Chris had chosen that place with no licence. By now she’d be well into a bottle while she got ready to go out. If she was honest this was probably the longest she’d gone without at least a couple of drinks for weeks.

‘Your hands are shaking,’ Peter commented indicating the hand he held and the other that was resting on his stomach. Jenna quickly withdrew them. ‘Jenna?’

‘What?’

‘Remember what we agreed about communication…’ he said.

Jenna couldn’t help but scoff at that, ‘says the man who is clearly hiding something.’

Peter sighed. ‘Ok… ok… you admit to me the drink has got out of hand and I’ll tell you what’s been going on. You’re going to work it out soon enough anyway.’

‘Why?’

‘Well it’s pretty obvious,’ Peter raised his eyebrows and nodded down to where his T-shirt was rumpled. Jenna scowled not following and grabbed the edge of it again. Peter closed his hand over hers again.

‘Don’t freak out on me,’ he said, ‘I didn’t want to worry you and all the stuff with Elaine was going on. It had to be done, so I got it done, but it was elective not another emergency, not another attack.’

‘You’re scaring me.’

‘Don’t be scared, its fine… I feel a lot better honestly…no more pain, not as breathless, I just went back to work far too early, I’ve not had enough recovery time…’

‘Peter!!’ she squeaked, ‘What?’

He helped her pull the edge of his shirt up. ‘Bypass,’ he said, ‘End of February. Don’t worry, it went smoothly…. initially and then things sort of came to a head with Elaine and we split just at the wrong time.’

Jenna stared at the still pink scar travelling vertically up his breastbone. It was neatly enough done but it still looked horrific to her eyes. Where his skin had been unmarked she could now see even the points from the sutures on either side of the incision.

‘Oh dear God…’ she whispered, her hand hovering over the bottom of his sternum.

‘It’s Ok…’ Peter assured.

‘How could she go when you’d had this done…?’

‘You assume it was her that went. Physically we split and went opposite directions, in her case to stay with friends for a bit but she had offered to stick about and help. She still cares, Jenna, but my head was all over the place. It was me… I couldn’t invest any more in my marriage. I tried, but I just… couldn’t. You were all I could think of, but I was constantly guilty. It wasn’t fair to feel like that and ask her to help care for me so I went back to Wales in March.’

‘March!?’

‘I’ve been through a few time for hospital appointments, doctor stuff, and Elaine and I still speak. We’re civil. Mostly.’

Jenna could only focus on one thing however. ‘March, Peter? Why didn’t you tell me in March? I don’t care if Elaine wanted to look after you, _I_ could have looked after you, I could have helped.’

‘Like I said before, I didn’t want to involve you then, it wouldn’t be fair, maybe I made a mistake there…. But I was trying my best, things were complex enough, I needed to think…’

‘You needed to think? That’s great but I was going crazy while you were thinking away to yourself.’ Jenna could feel her agony rising up again, just when she thought peace had settled over the house for a few hours, the truth was forcing its way out of both of them. Maybe she should have just kept up pretences, not dug about for the real story, because this was horrible.

‘I can’t believe you went through that alone,’ she shook her head, ‘I can’t believe you left me alone while you did it.’

Peter sat up painfully, ‘Oh Jenna, please, I’m sorry, I never meant all this to have this effect. I… please just come here, let me start again, let me hold you.’

‘I hate that you did this. What if it had gone wrong?! What if you had died? You would have died and I wouldn’t have known what had happened, I wouldn’t have been able to say goodbye… I can’t bear that…’ Jenna let the emotions erupt painfully. Dear God she hadn’t realised how many she had been carrying round, dampening them with alcohol and parties for the last few months. Now that she had sobered up it was pouring out of her and she couldn’t stop it.

Peter looked devastated and she hated how pale he seemed, how red his eyes were. She went to him and he held her, kissing her cheek and neck as he rubbed her back. After a moment she pulled back slightly and kissed his lips.

‘Promise me you’re ok now?’ she whispered between kisses. ‘Promise me there’s nothing else I don’t know.’

‘I promise,’ Peter replied, his voice deepening as he pulled her closer. ‘But you have to be OK too.’

‘I will be….’

Jenna pushed his T shirt the rest if the way and removed it entirely while he worked on her clothes with as much urgency. She kissed down his neck and let her tongue trail under his jaw bone. Peter leaned against the headboard of the bed and encouraged her to straddle him, kiss him deeply as his hands roamed over her breasts in warm gentle swathes.

She could feel him growing hard under her and broke the kiss in order to scoot back and undo his jeans, helping him out of them and tugging them down his legs. So far she had ignored the scar on his chest but she stopped, shocked when a further reddened line appeared on his thigh.

‘What…?’ she asked alarmed.

‘They took a vein from my leg… for my heart…’ Peter explained a little breathless from their exertions. ‘I’m not hiding another operation I promise.’

Jenna reached out and traced the scar lightly. ‘Is this why you’re limping so badly?’ she asked suddenly.

Peter laughed, ‘No… no its not. It’s still my knee that’s doing that.’

Jenna looked up at him in concern.

‘I’m a disaster,’ he explained, ‘A complete crock. You’d better get on with whatever you were wanting to do with me before I’m no use at all.’

She didn’t want to laugh, the idea Peter had had such a major surgery, that he had been through so much with his health in the last year, those were not funny topics. But this was Peter, and he could make anything funny with his eyes and his voice and his face and once her humour was tickled she couldn’t hold back the giggle, then the laughter. She suspected it was partly hysteria.

‘Will you manage?’ she smirked, ‘Or do you need me to do all the work again?’

Peter considered for a moment, ‘You’re quite right I’ll never manage, you should take charge.’

Jenna grinned and removed the rest of his clothing quickly before clambering back on top of him and resuming her kiss. She could feel herself melting into him, craving the warm grip of his arms around her, the way his hips thrust up under her as she began to move instinctively against him. She took him in her hand and guided him inside her, resting her forehead against his and holding back the unbidden tears that sprang to her eyes at that second.

‘God, I’ve missed you,’ he whispered to her as they kissed tenderly, ‘I never stopped loving you Jenna. I missed you so much.’

It was enough to set her tears spilling and he responded by holding her closer by her hips as she moved, whispering reassurances under his breath and nuzzling her face and neck softy. Jenna opened her eyes and watched her hands on his chest, one placed on each side of the scar.

Tentatively she touched the healed skin and tried not to think of what it represented in terms of how close he had come to death that year, of how he had faced it again and she hadn’t known. What had she been doing that day in March when he went under the knife? Filming? Partying? Throwing herself at a co-star for a meaningless one night stand in a haze of alcohol. God she felt sick that she could have been behaving that way when he was undergoing such important surgery.

‘Hey,’ Peter’s voice by her ear, ‘It’s ok, shh…’

‘I just wish you’d told me…’ she wept. ‘What if I’d lost you and we’d never spoken again? What if…’

‘What if,’ Peter chided lightly, ‘What if doesn’t count. I’m ok…. We’re together… we’re making a go of it. I’m sorry it took so long, that I wasn’t more honest more quickly.’ He drew back and looked at her with wide pupils and utter adoration, a slight flush to his cheeks improving his pallor significantly. ‘But it’s going to be OK,’ he promised. ‘I’m not going anywhere, I’ve had my heart re-plumbed and it obviously takes quite a bit to kill me,’ he laughed.

‘Shut up, not funny!’ but she couldn’t chastise him completely. She could feel hands moving over her body, stimulating her skin, pouring concentration onto areas he knew drove her crazy. His ministrations were gradually overcoming her worries and sadness. She couldn’t focus any longer on the bad events of the past or the what ifs they produced; all she could feel was in the present. The coiling pleasure at the centre of her and the tiny waves of pointed desire which rode to her core from each brush of his lips on her neck, each taste, each touch of his fingers. Jenna found herself groaning as he worked her, squeezing herself around him to hear him puff pleasured breath in her ear. She was coming fast and Peter wasn’t far behind her, sensation rolling over her body, tentatively at first and then in surge after surge of crippling release. She heard Peter let go under her and for a second she felt panic as he let out a pained noise, but it rapidly transformed into a noise of absolute relief, a smattering of laughter punctuating his orgasm as it passed and he held her tightly.

Jenna spent a few minutes cradled in his embrace, just absorbing the warmth and touch of his skin, allowing her stressed mind to unravel a little and feel safe and happy. She could feel Peter adjusting his position so that he could rest his head on her shoulder.

‘Hey, you ok?’ she asked softly, ‘Want me to move?’

‘Mmm… no… quite comfortable like this…’ she could feel his smile against her skin.

‘Sure..? Because….’ She was cut off by the sound of her front door slamming downstairs. Peter sat upright and stared towards the landing.

‘What the hell?’ he asked.

Jenna didn’t have time to reply before a voice and a set of footsteps started travelling up the stairs.

‘Jenna? You in? You up? Hungover? You’re supposed to be at the Tate! Don’t think I’m leaving until I’ve got you up, dressed and on your way!’

 

 

 

 


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenna's secret is discovered by someone close to her, and they have had enough. Can she persuade them she's back on track or is she about to lurch from one disaster to the next?

‘Shit!’ Jenna scrabbled off the bed and dived for her dressing gown leaving Peter in a state of shock.

‘Who’s that?’ he asked in alarm, ‘Do they have a key? How did they get in here?’

‘Later I’ll explain later,’ Jenna said breathlessly and ran for the door, slamming it shut behind her and almost immediately coming face to face with her PA who’d just climbed the last step onto the landing. ‘Amy! Hi!’ she said a little too enthusiastically.

Amy, carrying a long plastic protective clothing bag, looked past her to the closed bedroom door. ‘Why have you done that?’ she asked suspiciously until the penny dropped, then ‘Oh Jenna not again, for God’s sake! You’re a mess. I can’t keep tidying up after you.’ She made a dramatic gesture and stamped one foot, but there was real frustration in her voice, as thought she’d been trying to tell herself Jenna wouldn’t let her down again but lo and behold she had.

‘What?’ Jenna asked confused.

‘You’ve been out late again haven’t you, getting pissed with your celebrity mates and you’ve got one of them in there? Well do you know what, I’m sick of covering up, cleaning up, doing your bloody dry cleaning. I’m done with it, I quit! You’re on your own with this one, whoever it is….’

‘Amy, it’s not what you think,’ Jenna tried to interject.

‘What so you _haven’t_ got someone in there?’ Amy challenged. She was a tall and well built young woman, heavy set with some quite impressive biceps from some sessions down the gym. When she loomed over Jenna she could be quite intimidating. She acted as PA stroke bodyguard on difficult days but she had been Jenna’s friend as well as employee for years and they’d shared good and bad.

Jenna swallowed. ‘Um…’

Again her PA threw up her hands in despair. ‘Fine well get on with it. But you’re supposed to be at the Tate. I’ve got the dress with me,’ she waved the bag in one hand, ‘You can probably make it for ‘fashionably late,’ _if_ you have you any intention of going or are you too hungover?’

‘I’m not hungover!’

 _‘Tired?_ ’ Amy said sarcastically, alluding to the fact Jenna would make the excuse of exhaustion when she was actually nursing her head the morning after.

‘No!’ Jenna’s blood began to boil. ‘Stop it! Stop casting aspersions, you have no idea what’s going on.’ Normally she’d accept what Amy was saying, but things were different today and she was more sensitive.

‘So somethings going on?’ Amy folded her arms. ‘Going to tell me?’

‘No!’ Jenna leaned forward and took the dress, ‘Thank you for bringing this but I won’t be needing it. I’m staying in.’

‘You won’t be needing it? Won’t you? You surprise me. ’ Amy looked at the door again. ‘Come on who is in there?’

‘Nobody.’

‘But you’re not going to the exhibition?’

‘No.’

Amy stood resolutely at the top of the stairs. ‘And what do you want me to tell them this time? Because really people are getting sick of it. No-one’s going to invite you at this rate,’ she paused, ‘Or employ anyone so unreliable… you think you’re secure now but when that show finishes you’re on the scrap heap. Remember, PAs talk to PAs, have their noses to the ground and I can tell you your rep is totaled.’

Jenna grit her teeth but the truth was Amy was right. She was increasingly right these days. Jenna really should appear at the event, tidy, sober and respectable, and try to win back confidences from those in the business. Offers of work _would_ dry up. Yes, she had _Victoria_ but her shoddy reputation had been getting around. She was contracted to the drama but after that, no-one had shown an interest in hiring her for further work. Those in the TV world had watched her disintegrate in a short period of time and decided she couldn’t handle the extra fame and pressure. She was as Amy pointed out bluntly, unreliable, a liability. She looked down at the dress.

‘Just a couple of hours,’ Amy said coaxingly. ‘Meet and greet, look at some sculptures or paintings or whatever it is, come home. _Sober_.’

‘Right…’ Jenna said vaguely. She was right.

‘And _alone_ ,’ Amy added.

Jenna looked at her sharply. She was still right though. ‘Fine,’ she muttered.

‘Go on then,’ Amy said leaning on the bannisters. ‘Go and get changed.’ Jenna stood blocking the doorway. If she opened it Amy would clock Peter. If she decided to change in the bathroom or spare room Amy would no doubt just let herself in and see him. Judging by Amy’s stance she wasn’t for shifting either.

‘I’ll give you a lift,’ she said, arms folded. ‘You know if you get ready quickly. Like now.’

Jenna sighed. ‘I can get a cab…’

‘Why would you do that when you have a perfectly willing PA?’

The two women stared at each other feeling the balance of power swing towards Amy. Jenna looked towards the bathroom, maybe she should change there and just hope Amy didn’t… but Amy would. Maybe should could slip around a tiny crack in the door of her room? Because that wouldn’t look odd. Well it was the best she had. Jenna backed up to the door, one hand on the handle and twisted it.

Amy was watching her the whole time, watched her with a look of knowing exactly why she was acting so strangely. Jenna pushed the door open a crack and prayed Peter had moved from the bed directly opposite. She took a step back. Amy craned her head to one side and Jenna just had to go for it. She quickly let herself in and went to close the door firmly behind her when a foot jammed itself in the open door.

‘Let… me close… the door,’ Jenna pushed against it. She heard a startled noise from Peter behind her and a rustle of covers, and then Amy overpowered her easily. She walked straight into the bedroom. For a second she did nothing, taking in the chaos that had become Jenna’s room, clothes and make up and perfumes all over the place. Then her eyes lighted on Peter, still in the bed as Jenna feared, covers over him to his mid chest but otherwise quite clearly naked.

‘Oh. My. God,’ the PA said quietly and the smiled to herself. ‘Oh my God, I knew it! I always thought you two were a bit close, how long’s this been going on? Christ Jenna!’

Jenna jumped in front of her.

‘Amy, Amy…’ she tried, ‘Please, it is so important you don’t say anything to anyone. I mean I know you never have, and you’ve been so good to me, but I need you to promise, you wouldn’t spread the word on this… ‘

Amy’s eyes rotated from Peter and looked coolly down at Jenna. She smirked. ‘You _seriously_ think this can be kept on the down low? You don’t want me to mention this…?’ she said flatly. ‘If I don’t someone will soon enough. You can’t keep it secret. Jenna what the hell? I’ve seen you with some odd choices this year, some _really_ odd choices and I’ve covered your back, a thankless task by the way, really thankless and you bloody well owe me, but seriously what the… _Peter_? He’s twice your age! That’s disgusting!’

A noise of offence from Peter and Jenna bristled and struggled to keep her composure. She had to keep Amy on side.

‘Please let me explain, I’ll tell you everything you want to know…’ Jenna said desperately, her control of the situation spiraling out of view.

‘You will _not_ tell her everything,’ Peter said from the bed, ‘No matter how panic stricken you might be you are not giving her a story.’

Amy looked up, ‘See he gets what this is…. You’re obviously still a bit naïve. This is different Jen, to all your others. They were just random guys, a co-star no one had really heard of before _Victoria_ , a boy band member, all fly by night unimportant flings. But this? Stick _this_ in the paper and it’s got _so_ much going for it. He’s bloody _Doctor Who._ That’s a children’s show. He’s _married_.’

‘Actually he isn’t anymore,’ Jenna said.

‘Jenna! Shut up!’ Peter said. ‘That doesn’t help!’

‘Even more interesting,’ Amy said looking between them wide eyed.

Jenna slowly watched her PA’s expression alter from shocked and angry to intrigued and covetous. She was aware she had been growing tired of her role. Picking up the pieces, rescuing dresses from vomit, playing down Jenna’s behavior, excusing her, constantly defending her in the press. She was aware she’d driven her to the very edge of loyalty, but now she was witnessing her break free. Amy had been tried and tested over the last few months, had watched the woman she’d worked for, for years, disintegrate, use her, snap at her and disregard her, and a woman like Amy didn’t just lie down and take that. Jenna had gone too far. Dammit she ahd gone too far without even realising and now it was too late.

‘I don’t want to spend the next few weeks tidying up this particular mess,’ Amy said, ‘Because it’ll get out and then you’ll expect me to play stuff down ad make things better and this one, it’s going to be massive, it’s going to blow your lives out the water. I can do without that on a daily basis. I’ve done nothing to deserve that, to deserve the press hassling me every day and everything just falling to bits. Last year I might have stuck around but you’ve called in all your favours now….’

‘No….no… Amy, please, I can’t do this without you, ‘Jenna said, ‘You’re right, I’ve been impossible but I’ll change, I’ll get back on track. I’ve always been so grateful for your help but I don’t expect you to take the brunt of things this time, I’ll pull my weight…’

‘You haven’t managed so far. You just stick your head in a bottle of wine and cry and leave me to deal with it all. Well it’s not my responsibility,’ Amy said firmly. ‘And I’m not dealing with it. If you are back on track as you say, you’ll manage. After all you seem to have Peter on side to help.’ She paused and appraised him with her eyes. ‘Actually you don’t looks so good… that’s quite the scar.’ She frowned curiously.

‘Amy how can I persuade you…’ Jenna asked intervening before Peter could respond. Amy chose to look away from her.

‘Jenna,’ Peter said warningly, ‘Listen to what she’s saying. She’s not going to help you deflect the media this time….’

‘That’s fine, that’s ok,’ Jenna said ignoring him and putting her faith in her friendship with her PA, ‘I’ll prove I can cope. I don’t want that to land on your shoulders.’

‘It won’t,’ Amy confirmed, ‘because I’ll take it to the media myself. I’ll earn a ton more selling this story than cleaning it up at this end.’

Jenna stopped, horrified. ‘What?’’

‘She’s not on your side, Jen,’ Peter said.

Amy looked at her steadily, the slightest wavering of emotion behind her eyes, but she managed to keep her composure.

‘He’s right. I’ve got to look after number one,’ she said. ‘I used to think of us as friends, Jenna. We used to be there for each other, you were no better than me, no more important. I’d help you with stuff and you’d help me, let me talk to you. Since Christmas I barely know who you are. We don’t talk. You give orders. Worse, you leave me in awkward situations. You don’t show up for stuff and when you do you’re hungover or drunk or cranky and antisocial and I have to excuse you or explain. I’m really sick of it all, but the fact you don’t see me as a friend anymore, that really hurts. It sucks. I could forgive you just about anything but that.’

‘But I do, I _do_ see you as a friend!’

‘No you don’t!’ Amy’s façade cracked a little and she blinked away tears, ‘And even if you do now you haven’t for the last few months and it’s been horrible. I don’t want to be around that anymore, I can’t trust you.’

‘Please…’

‘Jenna, let her go,’ Peter said. Both women looked over at him.

‘She’s going to tell the press,’ Jenna hissed.

‘If she is going to, then she’s going to. That’s on her own conscience. We can’t stop her. She has some valid points about the way she’s been treated and she has to react the way she feels, the way she has to.’ He addressed Amy, ‘Listen, I can’t comment on Jenna’s behavior other than it’s worried me too, more than just worried me. I’m hoping she is, as she says, back on track. It would be great if you could keep a secret, keep neutral, but I can see why you might not feel you can.’

Amy glanced at her old friend. ‘I wish I could have faith in what you’re saying, Jenna,’ she said. ‘If you’re really back on track, go to the Tate tonight and prove it,’ she said, ‘Prove to all of us that you’re the old you and you can get control again.’

‘Ok, I will.’ Jenna drew herself up, spurred on by the impending disaster which was her relationship with Peter hitting the press. Spurred on by anxiety and fear and loss of confidence, as much as the desire to make her friend and PA proud, and to rekindle trust and rebuild her reputation.

It was a dangerous mix of reasons, and she hadn’t had a drink all day.

But that wasn't a problem, right?


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenna attends the Tate...

Sober. Sober. She used to do this all the time. Sober, or just one glass. Whole evenings nursing it or on orange juice., She wasn’t hugely social but she could manage if she was…

…. If she was with Peter usually. He hated socials too and more often than not drank nothing at all so he could vanish into his car mid way through the evening. If she kept a close eye on him she’d get a lift and the pair would have a coffee or two at her house or his before the night ended. So yes, she’d done sober and showbusiness before now but always with her best friend in tow. Someone to talk to. Someone to take the pressure off.

Jenna sipped the orange juice she had plucked from the tray and stood somewhat awkwardly in front of a portrait. At least she thought it was a portrait, it was rather Picasso, rather eyes in the wrong place. Who was this artist? Someone brand new? Or someone established. She was going to look an idiot either way. She surreptitiously looked at her watch. How soon could she leave without seeming rude as well as uncultured.

The exhibition was proving to be torture from start to finish, and worsening by each second. First she had run the gauntlet outside. Not heaving with press but an average number standing around with long lenses and cameras and microphones in case anyone wanted to say anything about the squint-eyed pictures. She was on the guest list and they’d been waiting. The second she stepped out the cab flashbulbs started flashing. She could go straight inside or stand and pose. The last few months it had been a case of head down and run more often than not but no, tonight she would stand tall, regain her public profile.

She stood in the centre of the carpet laid out for the exhibition and posed with her hands folded in front of her. The paparazzi hurled a few questions at her which she chose to ignore, things like ‘feeling a bit delicate, Jenna?’ and ’Going on anywhere after this?’ She made sure to give each camera an opportunity to snap each pose and then walked into the Tate purposefully even though her insides were jangling with nerves. When she realized she’d made it in, in one piece, and without a bottle on wine on board already she gave herself a moment to congratulate herself before hovering outside the exhibition all.

Phew, ok that was a big hall. Big ad white and not many exhibits to take up her attention. Always the way with proper art. Again she wished Peter was there. He was the art expert. If it was good art he would explain it to her in hushed tones and with grand gestures. His enthusiasm was catching and soon she would be coming out with her own interpretations and ideas, encouraged by his reaction at each turn. Art that amused them and art that touched them, both were equally as valid. For a long time they had met at weekends and explored the latest exhibitions together. Painting, sculpture, photography. It used to entrance Jenna just watching him be entranced with whatever it was; watch him sketch a homage to a famous design on his notepad.

He always had notepad, sketchbooks, pens and pencils, pockets bulging with materials and failing that a camera. She had no idea how he carried it all and teased him about bottomless pockets like the Doctor himself. He would tap his nose as if to say, you’re spot on, the Doctor is me. He certainly had his magnetism.

More orange juice and a few cursory greetings later Jenna had almost worked her way round the hall and yet hardly any time had passed. Her fixed smile was growing difficult to maintain. She watched the good the great and the beautiful appreciate the paintings and cursed them all individually. They had no idea what had gone on for her today, how trying and tiring it was and how much she wanted to get home. Peter was there, they still had so much to talk about but mainly she wanted his arms around her. She wanted to survive this ‘do,’ prove she could do so and patch her relationship with Amy. She’d been such a great PA, she didn’t want to lose her and as a rule she hated upsetting people let alone making them feel used. She could feel her cheeks burn just at the thought of it. What had she been doing all year?

Another circuit of the room then. Jenna turned and made her way past the buffet table. She should eat, that was something Peter worried about, something Amy had nagged her about from her point of view as a fitness fanatic. Well just to show them then. She stopped and took a plate, began adding a small amount of food on it. Not too much, she didn’t’ want to be stuck there eating it all if she could escape.

That’s when she first thought she heard her name mentioned. Initially she looked up thinking someone had pointed her out for another guest to speak with but no-one seemed obviously interested in her. She must have misheard. She added another canopy to the plate and then she heard it again.

‘… that Jenna…’

Just a fragment of a conversation, a female voice. Jenna’s head snapped up again. She knew that tone from school, when she was a goody two shoes head girl and bullied accordingly. There was more of that where it came from.

She wouldn’t let it bother her. Let them talk. She was here proving she could hold it together and not let herself or her loved ones down. God, her loved ones. Jenna’s heart great tight. She’d barely spoken with them recently despite her mum’s encouragement to come home if something was wrong. Well something had been obviously wrong but she’d blindly carried on. She had all of that to face.

Her mood plummeted at the idea and she couldn’t face her plate. She put it down and then heard her again.

‘… never would have thought it of Jenna a year ago… so much talent wasted….’

She turned and this time saw the culprits. Two magazine editors in a corner holding champagne flutes and huddling together, casting their eyes over the venue and declaring truths. For a second they came eye to eye with Jenna and smiled falsely, raising their glasses. Jenna managed to return the gesture but then made the mistake of looking about her.

There were more people looking at her than she feared at first. People from the press and social media alike. People taking pictures. She had to out her glass down, her hands shook so much and she felt sick and dizzy. Her breath was coming too rapidly. Why were they all watching her? Why was she so anxious. She just had to stick it out. She had to get Amy back on side, she’d treated her so badly.

Guilty and nervous she tried to think what to do and dipped into her bag for her phone. At this gesture she heard laughter from in front of her and saw a small group of women huddled around a similar cell phone, scrolling down a page and sniggering. Jenna had been in this position before now and new immediately the sort of thing they’d be viewing.

She started up Twitter and looked under her own name. Sure enough there were new shots of her entering the Tate, trying to pose perfectly. She skimmed through more sites and photos. Every shot looked uncomfortable and nervous. She’d been sure she’d been doing ok. More laughter. A feeling that the room was spinning and closing in on her.

One drink. One drink would settle her nerves and her stomach. Stop those shakes. Just one. She’d always managed at just one in the past. It would demonstrate she was in control, right? Jenna convinced herself swiftly and grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. She down it quickly and set it on the buffet table.

Small glass. Hardly any champagne in it. She could stand one more. One more after that. Then her nerves would be under control. It’d be fine. She was demonstrating that it was fine. In control. She signaled the waiter back and took another flute ignoring his raised eyebrows. Laughter from behind her. She’d stick it out if it killed her. She had to do this.

Jenna moved to inspect the sculpture at the Centre of the room. Took another glass on the way. Bumped against the table and tried to steady herself with debatable effect. Focus on the sculpture. She wound her way to it on her high heels with difficulty. Inspected it up close, concentrating hard. A twisting grey ceramic of entwined lovers. She tried to follow the limbs and bodies with her eyes and laid a hand on the base of it to try and help her to trace its curves and intricacies. It felt cool and she liked the sensation amongst the other overwhelmed senses in the room.

‘Excuse me but you can’t touch that, miss,’ some sort of Tate official or doorman.

The waiter glided by and she grabbed another champagne with her free hand. It sloshed over her fingers and she tried to salvage the liquid with her mouth.

‘What do you mean I can’t touch it?’ she said, ‘Its sculpture, art. You have to interact with it to feel it, it’s only half an experience if you don’t touch…’

‘Even so it clearly states…’ the man took her elbow to guide her away and release the base of the sculpture.

‘Let go! And shut up! What do you know anyway? You’re just the guy on the door. Actually what does anyone here know…?’

The population of the room turned almost as one at the raised volume of her voice.

‘What?’ she asked trying to get her balance. ‘What do you know about it? You’re not artists… you’ve never studied it, you just hang out because it’s fashionable and spout rubbish to one another trying to impress. I shouldn’t have come here without Peter, he can at least make sense of it….’

‘Peter?’ One woman queried, looking excited to hear the name. Two or three other guests tittered behind their hands. ‘Yes I’m sure he makes sense of a lot of things for you, doesn’t he?’

‘What?’

‘Well with you two being so close…’ she left the statement hanging in the air and then waved her iPhone at Jenna, ‘You are very, _very_ close… Look for yourself.’

Jenna wrestled her elbow free of the doorman and looked at her phone. She struggled with the password and entered it wrongly twice. The picture on the background looked blurred and she suddenly realized she was more woozy than she had first thought. Not drunk, she wasn’t wasted or anything, woozy. But she’d only had one glass right? No wait she’d had a couple… three, she tried to count. Wait one thing at a time, look at Twitter.

She scrolled down. There she was arriving, nervous. And a shot of her looking at a painting with a glass of orange juice. All fine so far. Jenna squinted. Sarcastic remarks under the orange juice photo, how long would she last until she was falling out the door and so on. She scowled, carried on scrolling. Pictures of her holding champagne at different parts of the room. Pictures of her trying to steady herself when she felt woozy against one of the tables and then one of her grabbing the sculpture. It didn’t look good. Shit she had to get to Amy and beg her not to say anything about Peter. She’d let everyone know if she thought Jenna was letting her down again, and she had. Suddenly Jenna knew she’d failed both Amy and Peter, but if she could just talk to them.

A bleep and a message arrived in her text inbox. Amy! Oh God Amy, please let things be ok. Jenna jabbed at it with her finger and it opened to reveal a link to a gossip website. Another ill coordinated jab.

The link opened. Two stories on one page. One documenting the course of her evening as she got more and more tipsy and the other.

 _Doctor_ Who _is Jenna Sleeping with Now? PA spills the beans on Jenna’s Latest Lover – You will Not Believe it!_

She looked up at the room, to the smiling faces watching her squirm in public, drunk and vulnerable. She had a paranoid feeling that they were all looking at the same story, texted to them by their PAs. Jenna looked back at the doorman.

‘Shall I call you a cab?’ he suggested.

‘Yes, please,’ she said quietly. He resumed his grip on her elbow and steered her out the back door. She heard the silence lift and the laughter resume as she left, and the beeping of her phone again.

As the taxi pulled up and she was bundled inside she managed to open the new text message.

‘Jenna, for God’s sake stop it now and come home, what the hell are you doing? Peter.’


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenna made it home, but now what? Reality is hitting the couple. This won't be a quick fix even if they are together at last.  
> Covers alcohol misuse.

Her head was pounding. Again. That in itself wasn’t unusual or worrying. She knew she had nothing scheduled for today. It was today wasn’t it? Sunday? She didn’t usually schedule anything for Sunday especially if there had been a party the night before.

Jenna groaned and tried to extract herself from the sheets. They smelled clean and fresh and like her own home. So that was a good start. She was home. She had managed to get home and not ended up staying with a relative stranger. She wasn’t going to have to sneak out early to avoid the cameras. She could have coffee and come around slowly. She cracked open an eye and checked. Yes, definitely her own bedroom. Time to move a bit and piece together the previous evening.

She scrabbled forward on her belly and stretched to reach her phone sitting on its charger by the bedside. Even holding it at arms’ length she had to squint to make it out, her eyesight being particularly blurry that morning. Jenna tried to hit Twitter and hit messages instead.

Oh.

The last message from Peter. Jenna stopped and stared at it, chewed her lip. OK he’d more or less ordered her home, she’d obviously made it there, but what had happened in between? What did she remember? She remembered the two of them making love again at last after the strained lunch with Chris and then…

Amy. She remembered Amy and her reaction to finding them; her diatribe at how she had been treated and then… Jenna’s whole being slumped in dismay. Amy had told the press. She had found pictures of herself and speculation all over Twitter. All because she hadn’t been able to keep her word and stay sober. Why? Why couldn’t she just stay sober?

Jenna flicked through the Twitter postings. Pictures of her staggering around the Tate with champagne. Arguing with the doorman next to a sculpture. Half falling into a taxi. All hashtagged ‘drunkenshame.’

‘I wasn’t that drunk!’ she exclaimed to no-one in particular. ‘I wasn’t! It was just a few glasses…’

‘I don’t know how many glasses it was, Jenna but it looked like more than a few,’ Peter’s voice came from the door. She looked up sharply.

‘It was _just_ a few,’ she insisted.

‘On an empty stomach then maybe? You’re not known for your regular meals,’ Peter said coming in and sitting on the bed, ‘You’re tiny Jenna, a few glasses would have you reeling where a normal person could take double that.’

‘Oh so I’m not normal now?’ she said defensively. For some reason he was really irritating her. What was he implying. A tiny voice inside her told her to listen to the truth but she kicked it hard out of her consciousness and ignored its protests.

‘Not what I was saying,’ Peter said tiredly. He looked like he’d had a night of it and was losing his patience.

‘What are you still doing here anyway?’ she asked looking away and fussing with putting her phone back. When she was met with silence she dared to kook back and found a surprised and hurt look on his face. Hurt and again, irritated.

‘If you want to know, I was making sure you didn’t choke on your own vomit,’ he said with a cutting tone, ‘Or falling down your stairs, or trying to take a bath when you were inebriated. That sort of thing. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stop you ringing Amy and yelling abuse at her so you’ll have to sort the consequences of that one yourself.’

Jenna’s eyes widened. ‘Oh… oh my God… but I wasn’t…. was I that bad?’

Peter just looked at her. Jenna felt anxiety clustered around her heart.

‘Is this… is this how I’ve been coming across recently?’ she asked timidly, ‘As out of control as that?’

He looked at her duvet cover before swiping it down, ridding her of imaginary fluff. ‘Yes, I’m afraid so,’ he said levelly. ‘Last night you were attempting to prove to us that you could get back on track, go to one of these things and not get hammered with whatever free drink they gave out, but…’

Jenna put her head in her hands and moaned. ‘I got nervous. I thought I could just have one or two to relax. That’s always what I think and then it just gets worse and by then it’s too late. Even if I do see what’s happening… which half the time I don’t…’

‘Jen,’ Peter took one of her hands and removed it from her face, forcing her to look at him through a painful squint. ‘This has to stop.’

‘I know, I know. I won’t do it again.’

‘You won’t do it again?’ he asked. ‘Just like that?’

‘Things are different now,’ Jenna said. ‘I can start over, stay clear of the champagne, focus on work, on you, just like before. I was being stupid; I didn’t know how else to cope but things will be better now…’ she could hear herself sounding almost delusional. Peter let her ramble on another minute before he interrupted.

‘Jenna you can’t just decide it isn’t a problem anymore.’

‘Why not?’ she asked with faux brightness to her voice. ‘Things went downhill because I missed you so much, and because suddenly there was all this pressure workwise. Now you’re here I don’t have to miss you and… and well… you give me strength… you help me to cope…’

Peter was smiling sadly, still holding her hand but looking down again at the duvet. ‘Oh Jenna,’ he sighed, ‘It’s really not that simple. Yes, I’m back, and with your permission would like to stay, but I am not the answer to this.’

Jenna laughed, ‘Yes, you are…’

Finally, he glanced up, ‘No, I’m not. You have a problem, a serious one. And while I will help you all I can you’re going to need something extra. I love you very much, but you need the proper help and that isn’t me, can’t be me. Not least because… well, put it this way I have my own health problems right now.’

Jenna felt her face fall, oh God she was stressing him out and he’d had heart surgery. Just how selfish could she be?. ‘But you’re Ok, right? You’re working again?’

‘Yes I am, but I’m worn out, struggling with it. I will do everything I can to help you Jenna, but over the last few months I’ve been forced to learn my limits…’

He trailed off and Jenna sat motionless and confused. After a minute or two she plucked up the courage to ask him directly the question that she was dreading the answer to.

‘So you don’t think I can just fix this?’

‘No, not without support.’

‘What kind of support?’ her voice sounded small.

‘I thought we’d start with a trip to your GP tomorrow and take it from there.’

Jenna watched him with horrified eyes. ‘What? I don’t need a doctor! Don’t be ridiculous!’

‘Jenna…’ he said patiently but she was up and out of the bed, throwing on her robe and slippers.

‘No!’ she ordered, pointing her finger at him as she marched out of her bedroom and hit the stairs. ‘No, that is not necessary. I’m not ill and I’m not crazy. I do not need to go to the doctor. And tell him what? I like to party now and then?’ she scurried down the stairs, hearing Peter follow behind her at a slower pace, one step at a time.

Jenna burst into the kitchen and began whizzing round it angrily making coffee. There was evidence Peter had been up for hours judging by the empty mug and the copies of newspaper he had attained from somewhere. She was all over them. When she glanced at the clock she realised it was close to lunchtime and she’d been passed out for hours. The kettle splashed over her hands as she filled it and thumped it down on the counter to boil.

‘Jenna you know this is more than the odd party,’ Peter continued, entering the kitchen. He sat at the table by his mug and watched her whirl around him. ‘You know yourself this is a problem… and... and I know that I’ve contributed to that. That you’ve been doing your best to cope…’

‘Shut up it’s not all about you….’ She retorted grabbing the milk. She sloshed it into her mug and bit back angry tears. Of course it was _largely_ about him. About missing him and not being able to say. But then it had become something else, it had become habit, it had become a way of life, a way of filling empty lonely evenings, with or without Peter.

‘I know,’ Peter was saying calmly, ‘I know it’s more complex than that. And that’s exactly why you need help. If it was just me we could maybe work things out together, but it’s so much more. You need support, psychological support, medical…’

‘No!’ she turned to him, ‘I am not nuts..’

‘I never said you were, I’m saying you’ve had a really tough year. You’ve felt isolated and coped the best way you can, but that’s been destructive. Now it’s time to look after yourself. I want to help you.’

Jenna purposefully moved to the table where he sat and joined him. She held her mug in both hands to steady it and placed it carefully in front of her.

‘I am ok,’ she said trying to keep her voice level. ‘I might be a bit hungover but that will pass and then tomorrow we can talk about what we’re going to do.’

‘Jenna it’s all over the press, It’s an absolute mess. We need to make sure you are strong enough to deal with that….’

‘I am!’ she scoffed.

‘Are you? Because I’m not sure I am!’ Peter confessed. ‘Amy’s story is all over the newspapers. I haven’t dared turn the TV on….’

‘It’s on twitter….’ Jenna added quietly.

‘So how on earth do you propose we deal with it?’

‘Tomorrow,’ Jenna said. I’ll be better tomorrow, feel better I mean, and we can work something out,’ She smiled an unconvincing smile and watched his reaction. Peters brows remained knit and his face pinched. He wasn’t falling for it. Gradually last night was coming back to her and she was beginning to understand why.

She’d come home after being poured into a taxi at the Tate, noisy, argumentative, make up smudged and mouthing off about Amy. Where was she? She was going to pay for this! But her disorderly stage didn’t last. Shortly after she got back her anger turned to tears and she sobbed as Peter helped her up the stairs, steadying her between himself and the wall. She’d sat on the edge of her bed, passively allowing him to undress her before trying to persuade him under the covers with her. She wanted him to make love to her, to make the bad evening go away, but he refused. A gentleman through and through, he tucked her up under the duvet, left a bucket and some tissues just in case.

She cried then because he deserved better and she didn’t deserve him. The public hated her and Amy had betrayed her and it was her own fault.

Jenna looked down into her coffee cup and swirled its contents. Then she made the mistake of raising it to her lips with just one hand rather than two. The whole thing shook coarsely and some coffee spilled onto the table. Peter’s sharp blue eyes watched critically and she slowly met them with her own.

‘Just give me today,’ she bargained. ‘And if things don’t get better, if I don’t pull myself together, I’ll…’

‘You’ll see a doctor,’ Peter said insistently. ‘First thing tomorrow. You will do it, Jenna.’

She nodded uncertainly and he squeezed her free hand.

‘Please. I’ve seen too many friend try to deal with this by themselves.’

‘Deal with what exactly?’ she said, glancing at him, ‘what is _this_ called?’

He looked at her kindly. ‘You know yourself, Jenna, you just haven’t said it out loud. And I guess you don’t have to until you’re ready, but I recognise it. People who drink heavily trying to ‘start over’ every fresh Monday morning. People who are hurting and just want to numb it. It doesn’t work and I don’t want you to waste time. Tomorrow, Jenna, we get advice, and I’ll be there for you every step of the way. We’ll make a plan, what we’re going to do. I don’t care if it means living in Timbuctoo for a decade in a monastery if it fixes you up and makes you happy again. I will always help you, but I will not stand by and watch you deteriorate like you have been. Not anymore.’

Jenna managed a small smile. ‘The monastery sounds fun,’ she said. ‘As in far away from civilisation.

‘It might not come to that,’ he admitted and paused, ‘Jenna, you’ve had a rotten time. If I’m honest so have I, from the moment I left that cottage. It’s time to lay our cards on the table and try and set things right.’

Jenna looked up at him. ‘I’ve got a real problem on my hands haven’t I?’ she asked timidly.

‘You do,’ he agreed, ‘but you know what else you’ve got?’

She shook her head sadly, ‘I don’t know, an angry ex PA, a baying mob of paparazzi?’

He chuckled, ‘Well yes you have those things too, but you also have me. Us. I promise, Jenna, it’s going to be OK.’


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenna is persuaded to seek help for her alcohol misuse

It made sense as she had gone to bed the night before, but by the time morning came it had taken a while for her to be persuaded again. Still after a long battle of wills here she was.

Jenna sat in the waiting room tapping her fingers nervously on a magazine she wasn’t reading. It was full of shots of herself with various companions and she knew it would just wind her up. Lies and gossip and horrible pictures of her drunk and falling out of cabs.

Celebrities did that thought didn’t they? From time to time? She bit her lip and glanced around the room. She never used to though. The disagreement in her head had raged on since she woke up. Right now she was bending to Peter’s will while her subconscious argued that he was right, and her conscious refused to listen. All day she had battled with herself. Did she, didn’t she have an issue? Did she need formal help? Couldn’t she just stay at home, recover for a while, avoid the drink? Peter was back in her life; he was all that mattered. Right? She’d lost him and lost her mind but now he was here. Why wasn’t it that simple? She honestly thought it would all just fall into place.

She looked down at her hands and experimentally stopped her tapping. They continued on their own, shaking against the paper. She folded her arms quickly.

She hadn’t had a drink for over twenty-four hours at least, closer to thirty-six. She shouldn’t be jittering, it was embarrassing. More than that, it made it harder to deny something was wrong. More evidence for herself after an already difficult morning. She glanced at Peter and thought of their exchanges so far. He was right. He was always right, and in reality she needed him to tell her home truths. The press could point out all of her failings endlessly, but Peter would only ever tell her his concerns with love.

The stunning summer morning had allowed her to present a sunny if false disposition first thing. Nothing wrong here at all. Full of life. No problems to be seen.

‘I’m fine,’ she had said running a brush through her hair while Peter leaned against the frame of the bedroom door. ‘I actually feel miles better today. I mean no hangover… hangover free that’s me. So I don’t think I need to bother the doctor. I mean someone else could use that spot and you know how hard it is to get an appointment these days….’

Peter pushed himself off the doorframe and into the room. ‘Jenna, unlike me you have wisely taken the decision to have a private GP. There isn’t a queue for appointments. We got one straight away, for an hour’s time. And you’re going.’

Jenna turned from the mirror. ‘But I’m better. I’m thinking sensibly, all I need to do is not drink.’ She tried to appeal to him with big eyes but he wasn’t for moving.

‘All you need to do?’ Peter said, ‘Jenna that’s actually a very tall order. We spoke about this. You agreed it was a problem and you needed to see a doctor.’

Back she swung to the mirror and caught his eye there, as though hoping her reflection would convince him by somehow hiding her real self.

‘Yes, but I was feeling really rough then. And shaken up. I’ve had thinking time, I’ve calmed down.’

He was behind her now, hands on her shoulders, running one smoothly down her arm to seize her brush. He disarmed her and resumed watching her in the glass.

‘Jenna, _look_ at yourself. Really look.’

‘Shut up it’s morning and I’ve no make up up…’ she tried to deflect him by being girly, but Peter had grown up with a large family of females and raised a daughter. He knew every trick and turned her protest against her.

‘You’ve never needed make up, you’ve always been youthful and beautiful… perfect skin… you were known for it. Look at _Victoria,_ she was supposed to be eighteen when you started. You were thirty.’

She laughed, ‘They have to age me now I’m supposed to be early forties. I’m not entirely sure how they are going to do the next series. I suppose they might do what they did in the _Tudors,_ you know just keep me youngish and hope no-one says anything…’

‘If you go on like you have been Jenna you’ll age just fine by yourself,’ Peter cut her off bluntly.

‘There’s no need for that,’ she protested.

‘ _Look_ at yourself,’ he firmly pointed her towards her reflection. Jenna avoided her own eyes for a moment before relenting and leaning forward to inspect the damage. Her expression altered to surprise and then to horror.

‘I…’ Jenna touched the area around her eyes. ‘I have wrinkles coming… how’s that? I’m not old, where are they coming from… and my cheeks are dry…’

‘Alcohol, Jen, dehydrates you, amongst other things. You burn the candles at both ends you’ll end up with worse than wrinkles. It’s a sign your body is struggling with your lifestyle. You are not due those lines for a good ten years yet.’ Peter let go of her and slumped down on the end of her bed while she continued her inspection. She scraped her hair back and inspected her forehead. The line between her brows that had been forming since _Doctor Who_ was more pronounced than ever. She frowned and it made her look angry.

‘God… I’ll have to get botox, this is really bad,’ she said widening her eyes and glancing at him.

Peter looked at her in disbelief. ‘Botox? Seriously? This isn’t funny! For God’s sake stop trying to patch the damage and deal with the issue!’

She let her hair fall down again and shot him an irritated look. ‘OK fine, I’ll see a Doctor and maybe that will reassure you a bit too.’

‘More like it’ll show you what’s actually happening…’ he said, ‘Now hurry up, we need to get going.’

‘Fine,’ she turned a little sulkily to the mirror again and got out her make-up, tried to rehydrate her skin and mask her wrinkles with products. She really did feel better today and she was sure with Peter’s support she could cope. She just needed to convince him and maybe the doctor would help there. He was fussing as usually. She was _fine_ , _she could manage._

Or not.

Her foundation on, she reached for her kohl pencil and went to line her eye. As the tip drew closer it skewed way off course. The shake in her hand shocked her and she drew back from it staring. With effort she got it to still but there was no way she could apply an accurate line. So it hadn’t all got better overnight. The headache was gone but the shaky thing was still in existence. She dumped the pencil and went for the mascara, it didn’t need quite such a steady hand and she could feel Peter watching.

‘This is horrible,’ she said quietly, confidence waning fast.

‘I know,’ he answered kindly.

‘It’s not usually a problem,’ she said protectively and she tried to close the gap between mascara wand and eyelashes by holding it with two hands.

‘Oh?’ Peter asked, a slight knowing in his voice but no cruelty.

‘I usually get ready at lunchtime…’ she said with false levity, ‘Lady of leisure you see… if I’m not working that is.’

She could see Peter in the mirror, he pressed his lips together and looked down. ‘Do you normally have a drink while you get ready?’ he asked.

She finished one eye and moved to the next, he was right, she often did, some leftover wine from the fridge or something similar. She realised now it steadied her hand and she did it more often than not. That was not good, not good at all. She struggled with the wand a moment longer and then with only the most basic make up applied, turned to face him.

That look. She hated that look he gave her, it spoke directly to her heart.

‘We’d better get to that doctor,’ she said resignedly. ‘I keep thinking I can deal with things and then you produce more evidence I can’t, that I’m pretending to myself. Right now I’m beginning to see I have a problem, but it won’t last, I’ll argue with you later.’

‘At least you’re recognising that,’ he said.

‘Only in dribs and drabs,’ she confessed. ‘I don’t want to confess what a mess I’ve made… but…’ she looked down at her hands, ‘It seems harder to deny first thing…so it’s better for the GP to see me now rather than when I start pretending again…which I will… as you keep pointing out…’

‘Jenna I’m not pointing things out to make you feel worse,’ Peter said, putting his arms around her again, ‘or to accuse you of terrible behaviour. This is a medical problem that needs treatment.’

Jenna made a doubtful face and he squeezed her closer.

‘It is, and hopefully your doctor will help you to see that. I am so worried, Jen. I don’t think I can stand to see you like you were the other night again. It broke my heart… and as you know,’ he said leaning back and raising his eyebrows at her comically, ‘It’s already had a bit of a battering this year.’

She laughed, ‘Not funny.’

‘I know it’s not, ‘he said sadly. ‘None of this is. Come on,’ he ushered her out of the room.

 

‘Jenna?’ A nurse hovered in front of her. How long had she been there? Jenna put her magazines to one side and tried to clear her head.

‘Um, yes… sorry,’ she stood.

‘Doctor’s ready for you,’ the nurse said amicably. She gently placed a hand between Jenna’s shoulder blades and propelled her towards he treatment room. Neat and efficient, clearly she was used to guiding half-conscious celebrities around private medical buildings. Jenna stopped suddenly and turned back, saw Peter hadn’t moved.

‘Aren’t you coming?’ she asked nervously.

‘Do you want me to?’ he asked, ‘I thought maybe you’d want privacy…’

‘Privacy,’ she laughed sadly, ‘What’s that? Anyway… I… went with you to your appointments.’

‘That you did,’ he said standing up, ‘And it was very helpful. Goodness knows what I would have done without you. Maybe it’s time to try and pay back that favour.’

Jenna held out her hand.

‘Thank you,’ she said.

 

Jenna’s doctor had a rather unusual office. Large, upholstered, trimmed in beautiful panelling and immediately accessible. Before she’d been famous she’d been with her local practice. Hectic, run down, the usual two week wait for an emergency appointment. Since she had blossomed on _Victoria_ however it was hard to see a GP without people chattered around her or worse asking for selfies when all she wanted was antibiotics. She switched and things were much better even if Peter wound her up about it. He was still with the NHS, limping into crowded GP practices and signing autographs until his doctor was ready to examine his knee. With his new health issues he’d been there pretty frequently. Jenna in the early days of is recovery had accompanied him on a few occasions. She had no idea how he kept his cool when he was under the weather and children were wanting a photo. It was yet more evidence that he was in fact a saint.

She felt less than saintly as she sat down. She felt irritable and tired and shaky and like she would snap if the doctor, Dr Cockburn, dared to cast any aspersions. She watched him bring her details up on the screen of his computer.

‘So Jenna,’ he started, smiling, ‘How can I help you today?’ he was nice enough but she was on her guard straight off the bat. She had to be careful with her responses.

She opened her mouth and got stuck. Just how did she describe what was happening without seeming like a horrible person. Getting drunk and letting herself down, sleeping with members of the cast, falling over in public. There was no way to put all that and not seem like a lush.

‘Jenna?’ the doctor repeated.

‘I… um…. Well it’s not like it is in the magazine…. I mean I’ve stuff going on but they make me out to be much worse and really it’s not that bad. I think I can deal with it myself but I just wanted to reassure…’

She felt Peter reach over and squeeze her hand hard.

‘Jenna just tell the truth,’ he said. ‘We both know it’s hard but, you’re in the right place.’

She watched the doctor exchange glances with Peter and nod. She felt like an idiot. A problem. Just open up and talk so we can fix you, because frankly you’re embarrassing. Her emotions shot from angry, to ashamed, to dreadfully, horribly sad. She felt trapped, the large room closing in on her. She had a sudden feeling she wouldn’t get out. What if they didn’t believe her, what if she was a hopeless case and they sent her away somewhere? You heard about that. Celebrities in rehab. That was ridiculous she wasn’t like them. Was she?

Her mind spun out of control. She was overwhelmed and afraid and she couldn’t think straight.

‘It’s not that bad,’ she said desperately. ‘Just give me a tablet or something and I swear I can sort things out. It’s just been a really hard few months but it’ll be better now, _I’ll_ be better I promise…’

‘Jenna, Jenna,’ the doctor interjected, ‘You don’t need to promise us anything. You just need to be honest.’

She turned to Peter who was watching her with real pain in his eyes. She hated it, the way he looked right then, like he might cry, like he wanted to plead with her.

‘Just talk to him,’ Peter said slowly, ‘Please…. Think what we said last night, this morning… You said yourself half the time you think there is a problem half the time you don’t. Just tell him what you think the problem is and see if he agrees.’

She looked back at the doctor, nervous and agitated. The shake in her hands was spreading over her body and God, she needed a drink, just one to calm all this down. Just one drink to steady her hands and relax her mind and help her cope with this crazy situation.

And there she had it.

It wasn’t a crazy situation just a trip to the GP. And why would anyone need a drink for a ten o’clock appointment with their doctor. Shit.

Shit. She ran her hand over her forehead, clammy and cold. Shit she felt ill, and when she looked up the doctor was still watching her.

‘Jenna?’ he said.

‘I…’ her head was hurting again and her throat felt dry. She felt like the only thing tethering her to reality was Peter’s grip on her fingers. She wasn’t used to reality these days, she spent half her life woozy with alcohol.

That was the problem.

‘I drink too much,’ she said suddenly. ‘It helps me… escape I guess… loosen up…This year, I’ve gone overboard…. I thought I could stop, I tried to just stop but….’ And because she didn’t know what else to do she held out her free hand to show the doctor how much she trembled. ‘It won’t let me, it’s got control, it got it and I didn’t even notice, and now I don’t know what to do.’

‘Do you _want_ to stop?’ Dr Cockburn asked.

‘Yes!’ she said, ‘At least I don’t want to be like this anymore, that means I want to stop, right…’

He nodded slightly, and typed a few line into his computer while Jenna looked at him urgently, frustrated with his lack of response. He was so calm, so silent. So very like he’d seen it all before.

‘OK,’ he said after a moment, raising his head and locking into her gaze, ‘There are a few ways we can tackle this. From basic interventions to full on residential rehab. I need to get the full picture and then let me run you through the options.’

Jenna swallowed and look across at Peter who was starting to look relieved. She however felt terrified. She’d gone there confused and half convinced she’d be home by lunchtime. Now the doctor was ‘running through options?’ That could mean only one thing.

Her problem with alcohol was real.

It was real.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenna detoxes and the pair consider the future.

‘Maybe we should have chosen the hospital?’ Peter wondered from his seat by the bed. He leaned across and wiped a damp strand of hair from Jenna’s forehead, hooking it behind her ear. She was sitting upright with an empty bowl in her lap.

‘Nope,’ she said, ‘No way. I don’t want to end up in the flipping Priory it’d be all over the news. No, we can manage this. The symptoms aren’t horrendous…’

She saw him raise his eyebrows.

‘What? It’s not as bad as last night. I just feel a bit off today. The doctor said it would be worse before it would get better, so I must be getting better…’ she argued.

‘A bit off?’ Peter asked, ‘You’ve been hugging that bowl since you woke up… from your three hours disrupted sleep.’

‘Uh-uh I got more than that,’ she corrected him.

‘No you didn’t, I was there, remember, _also_ not sleeping.’ He rubbed his hair until it grew fluffy and dishevelled.

‘Well you imagined all wrong,’ Jenna said, ‘Anyway its ok, those tablets help me sleep and I have enough for the week. It should be better by then. See… optimist!’

He looked at her doubtful then pointed to himself, ‘Realist. Jenna if you’re struggling at home, there are other options available.’

‘Shut up you sound like a salesman, a medical salesman. Come to the Priory it’s two for one on detoxes this week!’

Peter laughed, ‘Listen… You did this to me often enough when I was ill.’

‘Did what?’

‘Tried to take charge, make me see a doctor, have a different treatment. See the physio…’ he groaned and pulled a face.

‘Someone had to make you,’ she smirked, ‘And it did you good, you got back to the show sooner than anyone expected.’

‘True…’ he mused, then ran his eyes over her quickly. ‘Um… this isn’t the best time I know but we need to make a few decisions about the show.’

Jenna rolled her eyes. ‘Really? Now? Chris wants his final answer now?’

‘He does, bearing in mind he doesn’t know this is happening. Last he probably heard was that you and I were having an affair, presumably from the papers thanks to Amy. He has very graciously not mentioned it in detail but he does want a yes or a no to the last episode. I’m actually shocked he hasn’t just canned the whole thing. He’s standing by us, probably to the deficit of his own career, despite the hell that’s been unleashed thanks to us… well thanks to your PA.’

Peter studied her. ‘It’s almost as if he knew anyway,’ he said meaningfully.

‘Maybe he sort of sensed it,’ Jenna said softly averting her eyes. ‘You know when he saw us together.’ Her mind went back to the restaurant and his stunned reaction to discovering their relationship. Thank goodness he was still treating Peter the same.

‘Sensed it?’ Peter asked suspiciously.

‘You know had a sixth sense about us or something… Anyway where does he think you are today?’ Jenna asked curiously, deflecting the topic.

‘I called in a lot of favours and had things switched about a bit but I have to get back to Wales tomorrow.’

Jenna’s heart went cold. ‘Tomorrow? You can’t just leave me here in the middle of all this? Peter there’s press sitting in the bushes outside the front door. There are cameras in the buildings across the road. Last night it was crazy with TV presenters and gossip columnists. You are not leaving me to deal with that alone.’

‘I can’t leave the show either while they film my last few episodes. I’ve mucked them around enough this year and they’ve made massive concessions.’

‘Peter!’ her anger and hurt shot through her body. A wave of anxiety doubled her wave of nausea. Her whole self shook. ‘I can’t believe you’d consider trotting back to your safe Show Bubble. We need to face the fall out of this together. All of it. The press, the show, your _wife_ …’

‘Jenna… Jenna wait…. I’m not done.’ He scooted into place next to her.

‘This better be good,’ she glanced at the clock for the time and having satisfied herself it was within range reached for the bottle of pills by the bedside. They rattled fiercely in her hands and Peter went to help her but she pushed him away. ‘Talk,’ she said. ‘Tell me how you are not going to leave me with the mess.’

‘Jenna I would never do that. I left you in that cottage at Christmas and spent the rest of the year regretting it. I’m never leaving you again, as long as that’s what you want…. You can come with me?’ he said hopefully, ‘Stay in the apartment?’

‘Won’t I be a bit obvious there?’ she asked feeling a little calmer. ‘Drunk Jenna detoxing in Doctor Who’s flat? The press and fans outside that place all day as it is. It’ll be ten times worse now.’

Peter looked as though he was thinking deeply for a moment, ‘OK leave it with me I’ve another idea, but you’re not against coming with me? In theory?’

Jenna looked at him with large eyes, ‘Of course not, Peter I really need you right now, I’m only a day or two into this, I can’t do it by myself. I mean yes I’ll do the doctors and the support groups but its you I need.’

‘Ok… ok… I wasn’t going to leave you Jen,’ he rubbed her back reassuringly while she took two of her pills. The made her slightly dopey and stopped the shakes but she would be weaned off them soon enough and then, then the real challenge would come. Dealing with life without alcohol or a detox tablet to teak the edge off. She had to be with Peter, it simply wouldn’t work without him, even with all the Alcoholics Anonymous groups in the world. It was terrifying to be without a crutch. She felt scared all the time, the emotion reminding her of nightmares as a child, bogeymen waiting to get her again and Peter her knight in armour as always.

‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I’m just really on edge. It’s silly.’

‘No, it isn’t he said in reply. ‘It’s just I’m getting messages and emails that demand answers, and not just from Chris. I’ve been offered a project after that, not quite so heavy, a good role but not one that’s going to have me exhausted by the end of week one.’

‘That’s good, that’s really good,’ Jenna agreed in a distracted manner. ‘I guess they want to know back from you?’

‘Yes,’ he said hesitantly.

Jenna knit her brows, ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

‘Well I…’ he laughed self-consciously, ‘ _Doctor Who_ have made a lot of concessions for me given the surgery and so on… a new producer might not be so kind. It’s a different sort of pressure. There’s a part of me that thinks maybe after this series I should just…. Well… retire.’

Jenna stared at him horrified. ‘Retire? Peter you’re not old enough to retire.’

‘Well that’s it isn’t it, I sort of am,’ he chuckled.

‘No! No you have so much more in you, so much talent that hasn’t been shown yet, you can’t! You have to take this new role, if you think its good… you’ve not said what it is yet….’

‘It’s a secret,’ he said, ‘Much like _Doctor Who_ was to begin with.’

Jenna looked at him curiously. ‘A secret? You can’t keep secrets from me…’ carefully she set her empty bowl aside and crawled out from under the covers until she was sitting om her knees next to him. ‘I have ways of getting secrets out of you.’

Peter almost choked. ‘Jenna you are detoxing, now is not the time for… _this_..’

‘So it’ll keep me occupied,’ she grinned.

‘You’re supposed to be feeling terrible and thinking things over, learning and growing and all that stuff.’

‘I’ve done nothing but all that stuff the last couple of days. I have been miserable and felt gross and kept you up all night crying and shaking. I don’t know how you put up with me…. But maybe now I’m a bit better…’ She edged closer and wrapped her arms around him, nuzzling her face against his shoulder. Peters warm embrace closed around her and she felt him kiss her hair.

‘All in good time,’ he said.

‘Mmmph..’ Jenna let herself be comforted. Her pills were kicking in and suddenly all she wanted to do was snuggle.

‘So are we saying yes to Chris?’ Peter pushed, ‘Final episode?’

‘Yes,’ she said and then opened her eyes rapidly, ‘Yes in fact that’s a goal I need! Get sober, feel better, film the last ep.’ She was stunned by how confident her voice sounded. Just for a second the combination of the plan and Peter nearby made her feel like herself again.

‘Ok,’ Peter replied, rubbing her back, ‘Good girl. It’s a last minute rewrite job it won’t be more than a couple of weeks away.’

‘Right. Soon. Even more incentive.’ Jenna shuddered.

‘You ok?’

‘Yes just get shivery. Hot and cold. Pills are kicking it, its ok.’ She smiled up at him. ‘Come and lie down with me? I feel like all we’ve done since meeting again is stress and worry and in my case be drunk and ill. Let’s just relax for a bit.’

He eyed her cautiously. ‘Just lie down?’

Jenna looked at him despairingly, ‘Yes just lie down, if you insist. Although I wouldn’t mind if we…’

She reached out and pulled him towards her slightly by his belt. He immediately dropped his gaze and blushed, not exactly pushing her away but making things tricky by his posture. Jenna scowled.

‘What’s up?’ she asked.

‘Nothing, I just….’

‘No, what is it? If we’re being so big on honesty of late… tell me…’

Peter looked up at her sadly. ‘Jenna this has really taken it out of me. I’ve barely slept since the day we met again. I know that doesn’t sound a lot, it was only last Saturday, but I wear out fast these days without a night’s sleep behind me.’

‘I don’t understand, we’re been here mostly, you’ve had plenty of time to sleep.’

He laughed hard at that. ‘Plenty of item to worry about you, you mean? About seeing you again, about how you were behaving. Jenna I’ve been worrying about you since Christmas but the last few days I’ve gone into overdrive. Add that in with the show, the long hours there recently. I’m exhausted, Jen.’

She stopped and looked at him, at the gaunt cheeks and dark eyes she had spotted in the restaurant but which her subconscious had pushed to one side while she wrestled with her own issues. He was beyond tired, pale and thin.

‘You really are, aren’t you?’ she asked and he nodded. ‘God Peter what are we doing? You’ve been trying to manage with your heart and there’s me going off the deep end with booze.’

‘On the plus side we are both trying to be there for one another, which is maybe what should have happened in the first place’ Peter said, ‘But I think we also need to remember that both of us have our own issues and attend to ourselves a little.’

‘Take care of number one?’ Jenna said doubtfully.

‘Not quite but you can’t take care of anyone else if you are a wreck yourself. I’m beginning to discover that,’ he said with a bitter laugh. Jenna joined him.

‘So come and lie down and I promise not to molest you,’ she said, encouraging him to crawl over the covers and snuggle down with her. The presence of his arms seemed to stop her shakes entirely where medicines failed.

‘So what’s the plan?’ she checked after a moment.

‘Wales,’ he said, his voice already thick with sleep. ‘You finish detoxing, I’ll finish shooting. Then we’ll do our bit together on the show and that’ll be that. My tenure as the doctor finished.’

She heard something painful in his voice at that and gently kissed his chest through his shirt.

‘I’m sorry, I know it hasn’t happened how you wanted.’

‘No,’ he admitted trying hard not to let his voice crack, ‘I’d have stayed until I was ninety given the chance, but it wasn’t to be. Life just happens like that,’ he concluded, ‘When something’s over its over.’ There was a heavy pause and she wondered if he was thinking about his marriage. Everything had been so difficult, so life changing since December. Just like here, he would be mulling over mistakes and painful encounters all the while trying to be there for her as much as possible. He needed to be cared for, before he wore himself out completely. It was a resolution which somehow made it easier to contemplate sobriety.

‘So what comes next…?’ Jenna asked trying to move the conversation onto something more positive.

‘Ah,’ Peter said, ‘Well that’s where the secret comes in….’ his voice transformed into pure mischief.

Jenna propped herself up on her elbows and studied him. He was trying to appear innocent while at the same time hiding any emotions he had felt at the mention that his time on his show was ending. She scrutinised his features, an odd mixture of angst and amusement.

‘What is this secret?’ she demanded playfully and he just smiled. ‘I will get it out of you!’ she warned.

‘Do your worst,’ he said lifting his brows, ‘But be a bit gentle I’m an old man.’

Jenna leaned forward ready to attack him with kisses or tickle his ribs when she stopped, her head light from the drugs she had taken. She blinked hard to try and stop the room swirling.

‘Oomph,’ she complained, ‘Maybe a little later… I feel a bit odd.’

Peter encouraged her to lay against him again, ‘Come here, let the tablets do their work and don’t try to run before you walk. There’s plenty of time,’ he said gently, ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.’


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter takes Jenna back to the Cottage, a brighter happier place in summer.... but will she cope when he has to go to work?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse typos - not had time to check it yet - will do ASAP but wanted to get it posted

‘Don’t go…’ Jenna made a show of whining as she lay face down on the bed. She stretched out one arm in Peter’s direction and tried to make a grab for his trousers as he walked past. He laughed and dodged her easily, before resuming his original direction of travel. ‘Please….’ She said again, now propping herself up on her elbows. She pouted at him playfully.

‘I have to,’ he said, the picture of serious, ‘That’s the whole reason we’re here…’

‘Not the w _hole_ reason,’ she clarified, ‘A bit of the reason, the bit of the reason which is practical and sensible.’

Peter looked over at her as he pulled on his T-shirt and she suddenly caught a glimpse of his scar. _The_ scar. The one that made her stomach flip was she remembered how close he’d come. She stared at the place it had been even when it was covered.

‘What other bit is there?’ he asked to humour her and she snapped back to him.

‘Um… The bit where you wanted to take me somewhere romantic and beautiful to help me get back on my feet. The bit where we were going to share that experience and _heal_. _Together_.’

‘Well we can share it when I get back. They are trying to cut my hours back a bit, I shouldn’t be late.’

Jenna sat up cross legged under the sheets. ‘You’ll be late, you’re always late, if there are fans there, you’ll feel compelled and you’ll hang about and make sure everyone has what they want…’

‘There’s nothing wrong with that,’ he said doing up his belt.

‘I mean it, It’s important.’ Jenna replied, ‘Don’t push when you feel tired just come home. You need to look after yourself.’

‘I’m looking after _you_ ,’ he sat on the bed and began putting on his shoes, ‘And also a few fans… and finishing up an episode. And in the _meantime_ ,’ he turned and poked the tip of her nose, ‘You need to behave, get well, detox and be ready to join me in my… dying scenes,’ he dramatically clutched his chest and made a choking sound.

Jenna’s good humour vanished. Her face darkened. ‘Don’t,’ she said sternly, 'Stop it. Not funny.’

He looked apologetic almost immediately. ‘Sorry,’ he said softly. Peter leaned in and kissed her cheek tenderly. ‘Too close to the truth?’ She nodded and he wove his fingers through her hair a little, petting and soothing her. ‘How are you feeling anyway?’ he asked.

‘OK…’ she said still trying to get the image of Peter flatlining in the hospital out of her head. When he did silly things like the move he had just pulled it all came rushing back. She kept telling him to pack it in. He’d been unconscious, he didn’t have to recall each terrifying detail. She shook her head slightly and looked back at him. ‘It’s nice here, different from how I remembered it.’

He smiled, ‘Well a lot has happened since then, I think by the end of the festive season we both associated this place with loss and unhappiness. I thought we could start again. Now look, I have to go but… umph…’

Jenna put her arms around his neck and cuddled him hard. ‘You look after yourself today. Rest between takes. Let your runner actually do the running. Eat something. Have you taken your tablets?’

‘Yes…’ he rolled his eyes. ‘And what about you?’ he tested, ‘What’s your plan?’

‘Oh I’ll be OK. Plenty to occupy me. I’ve got TV… and Zen Adult Colouring books,’ she said with aplomb, ‘They are all the rage, the latest thing for London socialites who are in rehab, very chic.’

He laughed, ‘OK and your tablets, seeing as you mentioned mine?’

‘Got them laid out for the day, reducing regime has started, but I think I’ll be ok. I slept fine and I don’t think I’m as shaky. I can start to wean down like Doctor Cockburn suggested.’

‘If you’re struggling…’ Peter started.

‘I won’t. I’ll be fine.’

‘But if you are…’

‘I’ll call, now scoot, go be the Doctor.’

Peter gave her one last look, his eyes glancing over her, appraising. She must have come up to expectations because he smiled and let himself out of the bedroom. Jenna heard him trot downstairs and out the front door. The BBC driver had had to come a long way to pick him up, the cottage was an hour from the studio.

The cottage. Jenna drew her legs up and hugged her knees as she sat in the bed. She looked around it happily. She hadn’t been in the best states yesterday when she was bundled into the car and tucked up with a blanket despite it being the middle of summer. She’d felt hot and cold and sick ad faint, her head spinning and her medicine doing little for her other than make her mercifully dopey. At least that way she could sleep and not think about having a glass of wine to just fix everything.

Peter had told her it was all a surprise, he was full of them lately, so it worked out well because she nodded off about half an hour from Wales and woke up only when Peter opened the door on her side of the back seat and gently shook her awake. She blinked into the sun and asked blearily where they were so he stood to one side to let her see.

It was so different in summer.

It had been beautiful in winter but the mixed memories of that time would be forever associated with the snow and cold. Now the sun shone brightly on the woodlands around it, the little building hunkered down in the centre of the brilliant green trees. She could see roses growing round the door and burst out laughing at the cliché of it all. Unsteadily she reached for Peter’s arm to guide her and approached the front door while the driver unloaded their luggage and took it upstairs. He would depart soon and leave them to their new private world. A world where everyone who cared now knew they were together. A tiny corner tucked away in the countryside where there were very few of those people.

She didn’t want to go inside just yet and there was an old bench in the sun close to the window. Peter deposited her on it and made sure her blanket was in place. She told him off for treating her like an old lady so he pinched half of it complaining that he was cold and if she didn’t want it he’d have it thank you. The driver gone they sat in silence for a while listening to birdsong. She felt ill, weak and somewhat disorientated. The last few days had been crazy and this was the longest she’d been sober in months, but it didn’t matter. Jenna could feel her heart slowing and a sense of peace coming over her that was separate from the drugged haze her medications gave her.

It was something to do with the man next to her. That indefinable thing, that quality he had. His presence calmed her, his scent. It didn’t matter that she felt lousy she was sure things were going to be ok, she was more than sure. She could do this, no doubt about it; for herself and more importantly for him. She turned and kissed his chest where she knew the scar lay beneath. Life was so fragile, she’d learned that.

He’d brought her inside after a while as the sun was growing slightly lower and while he cooked she curled in a window seat and watched the garden outside. There were butterflies flitting aongst the roses and other flowers and she complained that she had forgotten half their names. Peter looked up from the ravioli he was preparing by hand and squinted past her. Together they pieced together descriptions of the little insects and he guessed the species. Skippers and Hairstreaks and silver washed fritillaries. She told him the Purple Hairstreak sounded like one of his early hairstyles and he nearly choked on his drink.

Why couldn’t it always be this way? Secluded, but with each other, struggling with their health maybe, but supporting one another. Jenna had enjoyed her meal for the first time since she’d stopped drinking. It tasted of something and filled her without making her feel queasy. She wanted to make the evening last longer, enjoy how she was feeling, but the pair of them, exhausted, admitted defeat and went to bed. She’d been asleep in moments.

In the early hours, just as the sun was rising and the light entering the room between half shut curtains, Jenna woke to the distant sound of a rural morning. She went into the bathroom and on her return found Peter on her side of the bed, doing his usual quest to find her when she vanished. She heaved him back into position and he muttered under his breath at her so grumpily she broke into giggles.

He opened his eyes.

‘Sorry,’ she mouthed, ‘Go back to sleep.’

But sleep was off the agenda, having finally caught up, and instead he dragged her by the arm deep under the covers where he lay naked between the sheets. They were soon entangled, skin on skin and smooth cotton covering what flesh could not. He felt firm and needy and laid her down on her back so that he could lay on top of her. She protested at first, told him she should do the work and tried to flip him over but he was fixed, aroused, strong; kissing down her neck, massaging her breasts. He was recovering he assured her. He wanted to worship her, and what’s more, he told her with a sly look, he was a big boy, so stop worrying.

They dozed off again as the sun came up fully with a sense of fulfilment and freedom. No paparazzi here, just the strangely comforting sound of cows and sheep roaming outside, the crowing of a  cockerel. This had been such a good idea, she told him and she cuddled up under his chin.

 

Jenna sat a moment longer on the bed, savouring the warmth between the sheets, the scent of their night together. She tapped her fingers on her knees and then held her hands out to find them almost steady.

‘Not bad,’ she told the empty room, ‘Not bad at all.. reckon I could hold a pen, do some ‘Zen Colouring’’ she smiled to herself, ‘I’m so Zen, that’s me, totally down with the Zen. Mindfulness no less… who needs rehab?’

She slipped out of the bed and slung on a light pair of navy sailor style trousers and a stripy little top that went with it and headed downstairs. She didn’t really feel hungry but she could almost feel Peter en route to Cardiff nagging her in his head so she went to the fridge and rummaged about for something mild and healthy. She opened up some yoghurt and went to look at the butterflies again. The purple hairstreak was back, and when she peered at the plant it hovered over she could see caterpillars inching along stems. Jenna grinned. The bloody cottage of doom and misery was turning out to be quite therapeutic now time had passed. She knew that if she turned her phone on there would be all sorts of media hate about her and Peter, but the cottage had an iffy signa and she had made it a rule not to check, so it let her set that side of this to one side until she felt better.

All she had to do was sit in the sun, watch caterpillars grow and wait for Peter to come home. Maybe she would cook tonight. She frowned, cook what? She dumped the empty yoghurt pot in the bin and looked again in the fridge. Uninspiring. Wait a good range of veg, she could work with that. Cheese. Oh vegetable lasagne?

She giggled ‘Don’t be lasagne,’ she mimicked in a deep and terrible Scottish accent. She turned to the cupboards above the counter. ‘Pasta…. Must be flat pasta sheets …. And passata he always gets passata…’

She opened the first cupboard and froze.

It must have been there since Christmas. She knew there had been a number left over when she left the cottage, but for some reason she hadn't expected to see it here. She didn’t know why, maybe she had expected Peter to remove them, but he had only arrived when she had and he must have presumed the landlady had had the place deep cleaned, removed any foodstuffs.

But wine wasn’t a foodstuff, it was wine. It would keep in cupboards for the next paying customers, the next people to rent.

Or in this case the return of some previous tenants.

Jenna’s fingers flexed against the cupboard handle and she felt her forehead break into a sweat. She chewed her lip, eyes flicking nervously towards the sink and then back to the bottle.

‘Just put it down the sink,’ she told herself, out loud to strengthen resolved.

Well she could, but maybe… maybe Peter would like some? He didn’t have an issue, he was allowed the odd glass, it was supposed to be good for hearts right? Maybe he’d like some.

‘No, down the sink,’ Jenna said and grabbed it, ‘He’d want you to put it down the sink.’

She stood looking at the wine in her hand. A good year, a good wine. It’d be such a waste to just dump it all. And once this bottle was gone well that would be that there would be no more. One bottle isn't a lot between two people.

_It’s not a lot for one. Not really._

She put the wine on the counter and leaned over it, shutting her eyes and listening to her internal debate. She could hear her phone ringing, Peter’s ringtone, back in the living area. Talk to him, talk to him, that’s what he would want. Tell him what’s happening.

_I can’t just run to him every time…._

Talk to him, answer the phone!

_I need to be able to do this myself…_

Talk to him before you…

The phone stopped ringing, the distinctive ringtone gone.

Jenna opened her eyes. The bottle was still there.

 

 

 

 


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alcohol and tablets designed to help with detox. They can lead to fatal mistakes. Has Jenna made one?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not about suicide, but it does include stuff about the risk of accidental overdose and addiction issues.

She couldn’t feel anything and it didn’t worry her. It was odd certainly but her body refused to spike adrenaline and stimulate fear. She felt like she was floating, maybe she was? She couldn’t see. Were her eyes shut or was it dark? She couldn’t tell that either. It didn’t seem like darkness, more like a lack of something to perceive. That was interesting.

There was nothing to hear and there was nothing to feel either. It wasn’t hot or cold, or hard or soft, there was just here and a nothing around her that neither threatened or comforted in any way. Jenna wondered how long she had been in this place, if it was a place. Maybe she’d always been there and the life she had known was an illusion. Maybe where she was, was timeless and endless and had waited for her to come home. Maybe it had only appeared when she…

_…. When I…._

The thought stalled. When she had what? Consequences from actions. She didn’t remember this place or how she had arrived. She had only slowly come to consciousness. There had to be something before, she knew there was. Her life and her family, her friends, career, relationships…

Stalled again. Relationships. Someone important. Vital. He had a name but she couldn’t find it in the darkness. She knew his face though, she could picture that, and his voice, she thought she could recognise his voice. Recognise or hear it? But there was nothing to hear either.

When she had… had…. Been alone. The face hadn’t been with her when she had done whatever she had done. Jenna felt the need to frown in concentration, try to drag the missing links from her mind but there was nothing to frown with. That was strange too. For the first time a slight concern.

_Where am I?_

It distracted her for a moment and then it abated. She was back to trying to pin down how she got there. What had happened while she was alone without _him_. Floating, floating, darkness uncommunicative and thick, and then slowly, a light, a picture.

She floated into it and found herself in a kitchen. Looked behind her to the darkness she had left and then down.

Nothing. No her at all. She looked up and across the room. There she was, leaning on the counter and in front of her….

Wine.                 

What had happened, what had happened, it suddenly came crashing home. Jenna looked frantically down at herself again, tried to hold out her hands before her but there was nothing of her to see, no muscles to command, no _her_. She was just a consciousness; the real Jenna was still standing by the counter staring at the bottle.

 _No, no, no…._ but she couldn’t get closer and she couldn’t turn back into the dark. She would be forced to watch and she had a bad feeling she knew what was going to happen, because it _had_ happened to her, was happening to her and this was in the past, a memory, an echo.

They say your life flashes before your eyes. Was that what this was? Was this her life ending?

Had it already finished? Was she watching the last minutes as her brain slowly cooled, a few final images generated by dying neurons, firing scenes at her unconscious mind?

_Watch me. Watch what I do._

Jenna looked frozen, her and the bottle, with a sense in the air of her debating with herself, with an inner voice saying no. Maybe her inner voice really was standing behind her, back from the future to undo the past. Trapped, lacking physicality, it watched and it became clear it was powerless, just a whisper, crushed in the back of As Yet Living and Visible Jenna’s mind.

Her cell phone was ringing somewhere in the darkness…

_Answer the phone…._

_…_ but it rang and rang until it stopped and she didn’t move. A count of ten and suddenly she opened a drawer beside her and produced a corkscrew, plunging it into the top of the bottle. Twisting and pulling. The defeated pop of the cork as it came loose. Impaled, bloodied with its contents.

Throwing the corkscrew down with a clatter, ignoring it as it bounced off the counter, she hurriedly opened a cupboard and searched around for a wineglass. That banged down onto the counter too and she cursed under her breath, she might have broken it, but there were no cracks. Bottle. Glass. The wine sloshed into it, left a dribble down the side which ran onto the base.

A pause. Chewing on her lips, her eyes flicking from bottle to glass. If she did this…. If she did this….

‘It’ll be fine, it’s just a glass,’ Visible Jenna said aloud.

_He’ll know, and it won’t be just a glass, it’s never just a glass these days, it’ll be the bottle. Stop it!!_

‘Bottle’s not much… and hey… early, he won’t be back until six… seven I think.’

_It’s morning! Why are you even thinking about it now! Put it away, put it down, throw it down the sink. Anything but this. Call him back, call…._

Peter. His name was Peter. His face matched it. And she knew immediately he loved her and he needed her and why was she watching herself do this? Why was she so selfish? She watched Jenna drink from the glass confident in her ability to deal with the alcohol and sober up in time for Peter’s return. She was chattering away to herself about using some in the cooking. Of course it wouldn’t get that far, the wine would be finished in half an hour.

Floating, watching. Thinking of Peter. Thinking of herself and her stark, shameful, overpowering need for alcohol. It was so clear, so damaging. Why had she waited so long to address it? Why hadn’t she seen?

Did being dead clarify these things? Was this a playback of her mistakes, provided by God so she could learn from them? Why learn from them now? Why not learn six months ago…

…. Six months. That rang a bell too. She watched Jenna sit at the little table that served as a dining table at night. She had the bottle with her, was making her way through it, now and then reassuring herself she ‘didn’t even feel drunk,’ that everything was fine. Six months she’d been leading that lifestyle. It came back to her now. Six months that started with booze and progressed to parties. Parties were tiring, work was tiring the next day, and she was thinner, she could see now just how thin; an objective view from outside, she saw what Peter did; bones and angles, she had no reserves left. So how to keep going?

Memories overlapping now, the image of Jenna at her table, so real, now flickering. There were parties, celebrities and well to do types overlapping. There was press and there were cameras and there were other things too. Things celebrities relied on to give themselves energy, things that had become tempting to straight laced Jenna as the time had passed. What did she have to lose? She’d already lost the most important thing in her world. She dabbled, she partied, her world crumbling slowly more and more after each event.

More wine. There had to be more wine. She hadn’t wanted to think about those mistakes. Jenna was up and rummaging through the cupboard she’d found her first bottle in. There it was… a small collection at the back. Her guardian angel was smiling on her. She remembered thinking that. And that she was sober but she watched now with those objective eyes again as Drunk Jenna caught herself against the table and laughed.

She remembered thinking it would be different this time because she was happier. That what had gone wrong before was how low she had felt when she drank. Now she was thinking of Peter and…

…. images coming and going. One night stands. Hangovers. Ruined clothes. Arguments with Amy. The mess her beautiful home had descended into. The empty bottles and the crumpled cigarette packets. Worse. The feeling she felt hadn’t been happy. It hadn’t been sadness either. It was shame. She was disgusting. The second bottle was half done.

She had stopped her chattering and now her inner voice could see she felt unwell as well as ashamed. She was trembling but she couldn’t tell why. Perhaps it had something to do with that knot of anxiety looped around her heart. They were in such a mess, her and Peter, they had so much to confront. And he was ill. He was supporting her, and helping her and _he was ill_. She’d ruined his marriage and now he was under all this stress and it was her fault and…

…. She hadn’t been able to cope with the feelings as they rushed over her. Her doctor had warned her. If she tried to go it alone and detox, psychologically it would be so hard. She needed professional support and Peter had agreed but she had begged and pleaded and opted for this way and now she was alone, and the second bottle was finished and he’d know and she’d messed up… again. He wouldn’t be able to take it, she was just breaking his heart.

She shook and shook, so scared, so anxious.

Those pills helped when she felt that way.

_They only help if you are detoxing, you can’t take them drunk!_

‘But they help. They’re like… like Valium…. I could just take a couple, help me get control again.’

_No, no…. Stop!_

‘Just a couple.’ She was up and lurched to when she kept them. Quickly took three and then returned to her seat. She tapped her fingers impatiently on the glass and table. She looked a wreck already, two bottles before lunch. Downed rather than sipped. Nothing but a little yoghurt in her stomach to soak it up. Watching, hovering nearby, she remembered feeling sick, the anxiety adding to it and sure enough as she waited Jenna shook out some more pills and took them, reasoning with herself that it would calm her down, let her get a grip.

Time was a strange concept where she was now. As the darkness drew her back from the scene she was aware of it passing but it could not longer be gauged. Minutes? Hours? All she knew was lack of sound and texture, lack of scent and sight. Once again she wondered if she was dead, suspended, purgatory perhaps. Was this all there really was? This nothing? A nothing where she would spend eternity think about these scenes playing out before her. Regret and pain and bad memories.

In the distance she spotted a light. She couldn’t move towards it so she waited patiently, hours, days maybe, until it washed over her. The living area of the cottage came into view again but this time, this time she felt something. A twinge, a shot of fear, panic. She briefly felt what she use to feel, back when she was whole, before what she saw now. This was what had happened then.

Peter closing the front door behind him, dumping his bag on a chair and turning to greet her. His face falling, he knocked the table and something went clattering to the ground with him as he dropped to his knees by her side. Jenna was laying on the carpet by the couch, looking as though she had rolled or fallen; passed out goodness knew when. There was vomit on her top and on the rug, deep red, looking almost like drying blood, but the smell was distinctive and filled the room. Alcohol. Wine.

Peter’s pale features glancing around the immediate area, his eyes landing on the pill bottle that had been the clatter behind him. It was empty now, the last of Jenna’s detox tablets gone as she had tried to quell her anxiety. She knew, watching, she hadn’t wanted this to happen, she had thought it was all under control. She didn’t want to die, just feel better. From her objective position in purgatory it was an obvious and silly mistake, she was an idiot. But look what idiots can do, look what she was doing now to Peter.

So part of her regarded herself calmly but another part was terrified as it watch Peter call an ambulance and put her in the recovery position. He was begging her to live while asking her what the hell she had done and why. From where she floated she could see how fast he was breathing in panic, how gaunt he appeared that evening, already worn out by his day and now this. He had come home expecting dinner and a quiet evening, not to find someone he loves half dead with booze.

She looked over her own body, at the pallor, and the stillness of her limbs. How long had she been laying there? He usually got back at seven. How much damage could be done by then? She’d heard of people who died that way… not so much the overdose but the damage caused by laying still, dehydrating, kidneys struggling to process chemicals….

Shit. The ambulance could be heard in the distance but Peter had had to wait some time, the cottage was far from civilisation. She watched him sweat and worry, try not to cry, try to speak to her and reassure her. Watched him hold his chest and his breath, squeeze his eyes shut in prayer and try to ease away the pain.

And then it was dark. The paramedics burst in and then it was dark. She wanted to see, she wanted to hear what went on, why couldn’t she see that bit, she’d seen everything else? The anxiety was washing over what remained of her now. Her floaty distanced feeling failing her. Whatever this place was she wanted out. She couldn’t stay there; dark, empty, remembering.

Her mouth was dry, Jenna realised suddenly; realising two things at once. That she could feel it was dry, and that she could feel she had a mouth. Without thinking she tried to raise a hand to her lips and feel but something caught it and pulled back, stopping her. There was a strange scraping sensation over her tongue and then a prickly, sharp feeling in her throat. She wanted to cough, did that mean she had lungs again….?

The cough caught her by surprise and when it happened sensation flooded through her and she realised that yes, lungs, yes, arms… yes to all of her.

_Eyes. Eyes. Open your eyes._

‘Can you open your eyes, Jenna?’ a voice. She could hear. But she didn’t know who. ‘Jenna?’

Being back in the world. Opening her eyes was the final action needed to connect and she understood it all at once. The hospital bed, the ventilator beside her, the doctor standing over her with the breathing tubes in her hand she’d just removed. Machines and wires and ( _Peter had this too_ , _it was so frightening_ ) and nurses and unnamed equipment everywhere.

She stared up at the soctor, who smiled.

‘Welcome back, you’re breathing steadily on your own again. We hooked you up just to be on the safe side, the antidote can only do so much and you’d been unconscious for about six hours on the floor. But you’ve not needed long here, just an overnight. We need to keep you a little while longer… bloods… recheck the CK, get you seen by psych…’ she was writing in some notes, looking down, blethering in doctor speak. Jenna’ concentration wavered and she looked past her, out into the belly of the ITU.

‘Wh…’ she croaked, coughed. The nurse handed her some water and she tried again, keeping words to a minimum for a while. ‘Peter? she asked. ‘Where is he?’

‘You should be resting…’ the Doctor started.

‘I’ve been resting all night… according to you,’ she coughed her way through her retort. ‘He found me… where is he?’

‘We should really get you seen by psych…’

‘Where is he?’ she asked as loudly as she could, immediately regretting the pain in her throat.

The doctor, clearly used to dealing with unconscious patients with no functioning emotions looked a little desperately at her nursing colleague.

‘Would you like me to call him?’ the nurse asked, one hand on Jenna’s shoulder, ‘Tell him you’re awake?’

She nodded gratefully and the staff moved off to write more notes, check drips and call TV stars who were probably furious with their girlfriends for letting them down and hitting the bottle. Hitting the bottle and the pills. Jenna rubbed her face, winced as the cannula in the back of her hands bent slightly. What on earth did Peter think of her now? How could he be expected to deal with this as well as his own problems? Had he just gone home for a break or had he reached a breaking point in his health or his feelings?

Jenna stared at the cold colourless ceiling of the unit.

She’d come close, but she wasn’t dead it seemed. He’d found her and she’d been saved from her own stupidity, her own inability to acknowledge her addiction and stick to her sober plans. He might have been the source of the pain that turned her to drink, but he never meant to be, and now he was the thing that kept her alive. He had done nothing this week, but support her, help her, but there was a limit on those sorts of things; you could only be saved so often before the saviour, exhausted, steps away defeated.

It might happen. It might have already. Jenna stared harder, refusing to cry, refusing the pain to worsen in her throat. The nurse would be back soon, tell her if he was on his way.

Please. Let him be on his way.

She wasn’t dead, but If she lost Peter she might as well be.


	39. Chapter 39

Not this again. Not this darkness. Not the quiet. She had to wake up, she had to come to, because it was so deep, so dark it would pull her back down again fast. She had to open her eyes. Jenna struggled inside her head and tried to translate it to a struggle in her arms and legs, if she could make her muscles respond she would jerk awake. She yelled instruction in her mind, louder and louder, to wake up, to move, come on, move, you’re trapped.

The deep and lovely dark. That was the line wasn’t it? Without it we wouldn’t see the stars.

‘Jenna,’ from nowhere, slicing through the darkness, making contact with her skin at the same time, long familiar fingers wrapping around her arm, the familiar voice persistent, ‘Jenna.’ In the dark the sliver of light widened and she realised she had opened her eyes in the strange gloom of the ITU, dim over the beds, bright to fluorescent over the nurses’ station in the middle. She panted for breath, her anxiety lowering a touch and then again the voice said, ‘Jenna.’

_Oh thank god, thank god, thank god._

_He's here._

This time she looked across at him. The light did odd things to his features. A blue shadow cast in his cheeks and temples, darker under his eyes and chin. For a moment he was a ghoul and she instinctively pulled back her arm but he held fast, raising his eyebrows. ‘Jenna, its only me, shh… calm down, do you know where you are? You must be wondering what on earth’s going on waking up like this is the dark.’

This was rock bottom then. That place people talk about when they are addicts. You have to hit rock bottom. And right now rock bottom was being afraid of Peter. Looking at his face and seeing something haunted. Lying in a bed, with tubes and wires inserted deep under her skin, things that had been keeping her alive because she lost control, lost respect, for him, for her. She had never felt so dirty and worthless. The whole year had been a mess and she was the result.

‘I.. it’s hospital…’ she croaked, trying to keep it together, but the emotion found her and held onto her as tightly as Peter’s hand. The tears rushed from her, a dam bursting at last without permission. Just the sheer volume of pain had reached critical. She’d cried before but this time it was being wrenched up from somewhere so deep inside she didn’t recognise it as her own. It was something primitive that seldom showed its face in modern society. Utter despair.

‘It’s all my fault, I was stupid, I don’t know what I was thinking, if I was thinking, I just found the wine and I thought, I could manage to just have one and that would somehow make you proud… proud?! I’ve let you down so badly, again. It doesn’t make sense why would I do that after everything you and Dr Cockburn have done…’

‘Jenna… Jenna… you’re going to have to trust me on this one,’ Peter said, ‘I’ve seen this happen a few times, and to begin with, like you I thought to myself but ‘why?’ ‘Why don’t people just stop or cut back or whatever. It took me a long time to realise the true implications, to see that people just can’t. It’s an addiction, it’s a problem, an illness if you like as real as the one I have, but we can still fix things. This happening, it doesn’t mean it can’t still be fixed. Never give up on it, Jenna.’

‘But I wrecked everything. You should be angry. This week was supposed to be special…’

He looked at her in sympathy from the shadows by her bed. ‘Whats the point in me being angry? To drive you further away? Closer to the bottle? Maybe I was angry at first but I was terrified. And then I thought about it… Maybe I should have pushed more for you going to somewhere residential for treatment, maybe I should have searched the bloody cottage for wine; definitely when I think of it. I’ve let you down.’

‘I let myself down,’ she tried to sit up a little and the starched sheets crackled.

‘We both have a lot on our plates,’ Peter said, ‘And… if I’m honest…’ he took a deep breath and looked pained.

‘What?’ her heart suddenly leapt. This was it he was going to say he couldn’t deal with her and leave and who would blame him. She was an embarrassment. She was sure this debacle would end up in the paper too. Always someone hanging around outside a hospital with a smart phone grabbing pictures.

‘Jenna, don’t look so scared,’ he said as her insides flipped and churned. ‘It’s just… I think maybe I overestimated…’

‘What?’

‘How much I can manage,’ he confessed. ‘I um… I’m struggling, going back this week just showed me that more. I can barely bloody move I’m so tired. I would have been here when they woke you, I mean they phoned me but I’d passed out on the bed, didn’t even hear it. I only picked up the third time when you already had the tube removed.’

Jenna watched him make his apology, he was clearly ashamed, but what did he expect he’d only had major surgery a few months ago and despite that he was doing really well. He didn’t feel it though, he felt like he was running on fifty percent and that he was letting everyone down. She wished she could take that pressure from him.

‘Peter don’t be hard on yourself, please, I don’t know how you do it. Get up at the crack of dawn, film all day, cook, look after me, come to the hospital when I’ve been an idiot….’

He shook his head sadly. ‘Number one, not an idiot, number two I want to do all those things, number three I can’t. I just can’t, I’m exhausted and… Jenna… when I found you…’

She looked away feeling dreadful. Now it would come. He wasn’t angry but he’d say he couldn’t be with her, he couldn’t go on, it was all too painful and she’d feel like she felt at Christmas and she’d fall apart.

‘Jenna I’ve never felt fear like it, seeing you lie there. You were hardly breathing. I can’t do this. I know you weren’t keen on hospital or rehab somewhere but I can’t look after you at home. What if something similar happens….?’

‘It won’t,’ she said firmly, ‘God I promise I am never touching another drop…’

He looked at her as thought trying to read the truth in her eyes. ‘Jenna it doesn’t work like that. I want to believe it, I want to take you home now and bundle you up and make everything better but right now your addiction…. Its’ got you in its grasp. You need proper help….’

‘You’re wrong I can do this now. You think I will put myself at risk again after this, after you having to find me? It’s not fair on you, I’ve been selfish. I owe it to you to stay sober.’

Peter sat back in his seat a little and almost vanished into the darkness in the corner of the bay.

‘Jenna, please listen. I know you mean to do your best and I want you to, I want you to beat this. But… even if you don’t drink something could happen… what if you had a seizure or something?’

‘I have medication….’ she said.

‘Right… Jenna they aren’t going to be keen on supplying you with that after what happened.’

He had a point. She hesitated. ‘Well they can’t just send me back?’

‘Yes… they can… to wait your turn again with a doctor or some form of addictions service. Or…’

‘They can’t do that! I need help now! Seriously they do this to people?’

‘Modern NHS, Jen.’

‘Well private then, I see a private GP remember?’

A sigh from the gloom. ‘Jenna you aren’t listening. Fine see private services but…. I can’t support you at home.’ There was a distressed edge to his voice but she couldn’t work out if it was because he couldn’t help her or because she was saying she’d be ok and he thought she couldn’t cope.

‘If you don’t feel you can support me… Well that’s ok, I’ll manage…’

‘They won’t let you do it unsupported… a detox alone at home… no…’

‘Well tell them you’re supporting me but really take it easy….’

‘Jenna!’ he snapped. ‘I can’t do that, I can’t lie about caring for you, I can’t pretend and I can’t let you put yourself at risk.’

‘What _can_ you do then?’ she said irritably, her head aching.

‘I can tell you to go somewhere residential and dry out… get the help, start the journey and when you’re ready,’ his tone altered, ‘I’ll come for you.’

Jenna froze, looking into the shadow where he was sitting, barely picking up the glint of his eyes. ‘You… you’re abandoning me in… in the Priory or something?’

‘I need to…’

‘But…’

‘I’m not exactly in top condition myself,’ he said quietly, ‘And I’m… I’m getting some pain again and…’

‘What?’

‘Please just go to the place, do your rehab, come out stronger, prove to me you mean it when you say never again.’

‘I can do that at home!’

 _‘I can’t_ ,’ he replied firmly. ‘I can’t live with that worry and anxiety every day. It’s killing me. The last twenty four hours very nearly did kill me. I don’t know who the ambulance men wanted to tend to first. Turned out it was just a panic attack not a heart attack but I thought I was a goner….’

Jenna’s eyes widened. Shit, she had no idea. She couldn’t get away from that, an example of the direct effect she was having by her drinking.

It was trickling through then, her reality, its effect on Peter, and on her. She didn’t want to do this to him, what’s more she had no right to. He needed to know she was safe and to be able to take care of himself.

‘How long do I have to go for?’ she asked.

‘I suppose it depends on how it goes, I’m not sure,’ he said leaning back into the light a little, his exhaustion more evident by the minute.

Peter couldn’t get comfortable and she wondered if his back or leg hurt too. She was suddenly filled with a desperate need to care for him. Tonight. Next week. As he grew older. Because there it was plain in front of her. He’d recover this time, given rest, when he cut down his activities, but youthful energetic Peter was a man of sixty now. He needed to slow down a little, respect the surgery he’d had, stop pushing himself beyond his limits daily, and stop being so stressed. The last one hit home and triggered her guilt. Peter was a man who was capable of having a lot of fun, who was a constant optimist and she had to stop being a source of the anxiety.

But what if it didn’t matter that she wanted all these things, that she was so certain that he was the one for her and she could make things up to him. What if deep down he’d had enough, been burned so badly by this year that when she went to rehab he just drifted, just too the opportunity to cut ties…

‘Thank you for saying you’ll go,’ he went on, ‘And I’m sorry, I thought I could manage, help you properly….’

‘Please don’t leave me,’ she blurted out suddenly. Peter raised his eyebrows.

‘Leave you? Jenna why would I leave you, especially after everything we’ve been through?’

‘ _Because_ of everything we’ve been through,’ she said.

He laughed and then stifled it aware of sick people all around dozing fitfully. ‘Oh Jenna, the only way you get rid of me now is in a box.’

She glared at him. ‘Stop with the poor taste. You have had a heart bypass… and we’re in ITU!’ she hissed.

‘Sorry.’ He chuckled to himself and she felt blessed relief wash over her at the sight.

‘What will you do while I’m inside, doing my time? I mean if you’re not going to leave me,’ Jenna asked. He leaned in his chair, dangling his hands between his knees.

‘Finish the show… slowly…. And um… continue to make plans for retirement I guess.’

‘Retirement?’ she laughed, ‘Not this again! You’re _so_ old!’ she teased. ‘You can’t retire I keep telling you this. Too young and you’d go mad from boredom. You always have to be active and involved and creating…. This is like the third time we’ve had this conversation.’

‘Well that’s the thing isn’t it,’ he said sadly, ‘I love being active but I’m more limited. I can’t do it for nine months a year anyway. Any projects I take on now will be very short term… a couple of month’s max, and reasonably local. London mainly. I’ve already got at least one lined up and I’m a bit nervous about that straight after _Who,_ but well… it’s a special one, good one to end on if I find I still get too worn out.’

Jenna frowned, ‘Hmm,’ she said and he made an innocent face. ‘What won’t you tell me?’

‘Also local is easier on me….’ He went on ignoring her, ‘The idea of travelling…’

Jenna’s face fell, ‘But you love travelling,’ she said.

‘Oh yes… and I may still go, holidays and so on, but not as work. Its brutal. Arriving jetlagged, filming in the hot sun for days, getting bugs…’

‘Fair enough,’ she said gently. ‘So a few short term bits and bobs and… what will you do the rest of the time?’

He looked embarrassed. ‘Don’t laugh,’ he said.

‘Why would I laugh?’

‘Because I’m probably not good enough.’

‘Peter you are insanely talented everyone says so…’

‘Shut up.’

‘No. Now what is it?’

He smiled softly, his mind clearly on something dear to him. ‘I want to be an illustrator.’

Jenna frowned, ‘Wasn’t that what your degree focused on?’

‘Well remembered,’ he said.

‘Illustrator of what?’ she asked curiously.

‘Um… well I had this idea…’

‘Oh? Go on?’

She could see him flush even in the gloom, modest and bashful when being made to speak of his little project. ‘I… wanted to um… well you know there are lots of _Doctor Who_ books and comics and so on..’

‘Yes….’

‘I thought maybe I could do one for the much younger fans. You know, less involved storylines, something simple, and fun and I could… I could illustrate them too…’ he looked at her hopefully.

Jenna watched him for a second until he became uncomfortable. He looked away. ‘Sorry, silly isn’t it, bad idea.’

‘I think it’s lovely, really lovely, you should definitely do it. That way you are still involved with the whole scene, and in a way… you’re still the Doctor, telling his stories.’

This time he glanced at her with a small smile, ‘Thanks.’

‘So that’s you sorted then,’ she said.

‘Oh I have to finish this series first and well…I’m not sure how that’s going to end. Chris was hoping you’d come back and there’d be this scene where…’

‘I’ll be there,’ Jenna said.

‘Don’t be ridiculous there’s hardly enough time for you to get well.’

‘Well push it back a little, or as much as you can. It’s just a couple of scenes yeah?’

‘Yes… but…’

‘I need a goal,’ she challenged him.

‘Yes but, Jenna, if you’re not able to…’ he said awkwardly.

‘Then I will mess everything up for a lot of people. Motivation I would say.’

‘Right….’ He looked doubtful.

‘It’ll be ok,’ she said suddenly positive.

‘You seem very sure?’

‘I am…’ she hesitated. ‘Peter?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Thank you for…coming back her tonight and for listening and… for sticking by me when I would completely understand if you were angry, or fed up or just wanted to get away.’

‘Silly girl,’ he said, ‘I didn’t ‘stick by you, I didn’t have to hang on for deal life or be a martyr or anything…’

‘I think you did!’

‘No, ‘ he smiled in the shadows, ‘I just had to stop you pushing me away…. ‘

He held her eye and then took her hand in both of his, rubbed her fingers warm until she smiled. After a moment he stood up and leaned over her, dropping a light kiss on her lips before resuming his seat. He breathed out, a long sigh and caught her eye again.

‘Jenna…. they’re talking about letting you out tomorrow,’ Peter said hesitantly.

‘Yes? Great!’ she said a little unconvincingly but bravely.

‘The discharge address is the cottage…’ Peter said and paused again, ‘The thing is….’

‘I know,’ she squeezed his hand and then looked around the walls for posters or signs, forced her voice to sound more upbeat despite the nerves and her hoarse throat. ‘Can’t seem to use my phone in here. Do you think they have one I can borrow or do you think they will let me wheel out into the corridor?’

Peter looked confused.

‘Who are you phoning at this time of night?’ he said, ‘Can’t it wait ‘til morning?’

She stopped scanning the dark ward and swallowed her anxiety, smiled a reassuring smile. She would do this, even if she was terrified, she would do this.

‘The Priory,’ she said clearly, ‘and no… it won’t wait another minute.’


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenna makes her way to rehab

Rehab.

Deceptively brief and easy, physically demanding and mentally even more so. At least that’s what the woman on the phone had implied. Was Jenna in the right place to start this journey? Had she really thought it through? Well yes, and yes, appeared to be the magic words and open sesame the gates of the private institution had unlocked. She had yet to prove herself though, she was told there was quite a dropout rate. When the phonecall to the Priory ended Jenna felt determined and proud. When she woke up in the morning she felt like hell.

In Surrey, outside the centre, it was gloriously sunny and it bounced off the trees and grass as thought they were made of coloured glass. Everything seemed to shine, pristine and new, even down to the feathers of the blackbirds hopping on the lawn. The sky was utterly, flawlessly blue and the building itself, pure white, with sweeping stairs and massive windows from a bygone age. It had taken hours to go from her hospital bed to the driveway of her new temporary residence, and she was surprised at how exhausted she was as she hauled herself out the car where she had been dozing on and off, between bouts of anxiety.

Before she had been discharged she had been given a small amount of medicine to stave off any withdrawals she might be experiencing, but it was quickly wearing off and combined with the nervousness of someone about to put their trust in others to help cure something so private and painful, she was a trembling wreck as she approached the stairs. Peter was with her of course, his hand in the small of her back, guiding rather than propelling, reassuring rather than insisting.

It had been a long day of confessing and travelling. She had taken an hour to convince the liaison psychiatrist she wasn’t crazy and she wasn’t trying to kill herself. They’d been sent to see her because the word ‘overdose’ was on her chart and they absolutely would not discharge her without review. In trotted their junior; the young woman looking absolutely fascinated to find a celebrity in intensive care, and Jenna had remained civil but firm when she had assured her that she knew exactly what was wrong, thank you, and she didn’t need the young woman’s input.

The young doctor vanished but minutes later her consultant hit the ward and took a seat by Jenna’s bed. He really would appreciate it if she would have a chat before going to the priory. She fixed him with a stare and said she’d be doing plenty of chatting once in Surrey, to which he answered she might as well start then and get some practice, because, ‘believe me, talking is ninety percent of the treatment you’ve signed up for, so be prepared to be honest, frequently.’ She had looked to Peter for support but his expression and the little jerk of his head said, do it.

So she did. And by the end of it she was worn out. She began to wonder if she could do this therapy at all, if it left her so constantly drained, so the nerves kicked in even before the car. How much talking and about what? How personal did it get? It scared her, she spent her life pretending to be other people and she had thought it was just a great way to earn a living, but maybe there was something deeper, some terrible happening she was trying to avoid?

Peter looked at her calmly in the back seat and tried to reassure her that there probably wasn’t and her anxious alcohol starved brain was starting to run away with her. He was right, but her jittering mind had decided to worry away at the question and it would torment her down the M4.

Standing just below the steps now, Peter’s hand still on her back, they both heard the car pull away behind them and Jenna’s heart leapt in fear. That was her get away, her escape plan, just in case, not that she would use it but just in case… in case…. She looked around desperately.

‘He’s parked down the drive a little,’ Peter said catching her, ‘He’ll take me home.’

‘Oh…’ she tried to look composed. The idea of Peter not being there had just doubled her fears.

‘Jenna are you having second thoughts?’

She looked up at him, standing beside her, his shades covering his eyes and hiding the tiredness and shadow. Her shoulders slumped a little. She was scared, but she couldn’t put him through another episode like this one.

‘No,’ she said as firmly as she could, ‘No second thoughts, just nerves, I’m just a bit nervous you know, it’s all new and ….’

‘It makes you feel powerless sometimes,’ a voice from the stairs said. A short lady in her early forties approached them and smiled. ‘My name is Lisa; I’ll be looking after you Jenna.’

‘Hi…’ Jenna tried to pull herself together. ‘I’m really not having second thoughts…’

‘That’s good to hear,’ Lisa said brightly, ‘But even if you were that would be ok too…. As long as you gave it a chance. We want to take that powerless feeling and turn it on its head, give you the power back to decide what role alcohol has to play in your life,’ she paused as though to give Jenna the chance to run for it, change her mind. When she didn’t she held out a hand, ‘Come on then let me show you, your room.’

Jenna glanced at Peter who ushered her in front of him and put his hands in his pockets, the picture of ease and grace. She knew deep down her was probably as anxious as she was but he was in support mode, letting Jenna lead the way while he trailed a little behind studying the artwork on the walls of the old building.

She couldn’t take it all in, where everything was. Nurses offices and doctors’ names, where to make tea, communal areas with televisions and games. Doors that led to clusters of bedrooms. Patients scattered around the interior in various stages of treatment. Not just alcohol, but heroin, even gambling and those without addictions, but with conditions which hampered their lives just as much. Obsessive compulsives, chronically anxious people, it went on and on. Each of them said hello to her as she passed, polite and welcoming, preoccupied with their own private struggle.

The ceilings were high and the carpets were plush and it seemed the opposite of the stark clinical intensive care unit she had woken on. There were little rooms here and there where counselling took place, cosy with armchairs and tables with tissues. Finally, Lisa stopped by one door and opened it up with a master key.

‘This one’s yours,’ she said, ‘It’s really quite comfortable _, en suite_ …’

Jenna followed her in and watched as the blinds were opened to the bright sun. It streamed over the furniture and tastefully decorated walls. A bed, a chair, a desk. Wardrobe and drawers and the bathroom off to one side, tiled and clean.

‘This is very nice,’ Peter said. Jenna realised suddenly she’d been standing silently for a moment.

‘We try to make it as comfortable as possible,’ Lisa said looking at Jenna, ‘Are you ok?’ she asked her, ‘Its ok if you’re feeling a bit overwhelmed. You’ll be needing some medication and time to settle in.’

‘I… it just all feels…’ words failed her for a moment. This was real. She was standing in a rehab hospital about to embark on a detox after nearly killing herself. It had all spun out of control so fast and now she was here, and it was scary. She’d be left here alone soon. Peter would go and she’d be here with the therapists and the other patients and… she didn’t know if she could do this.

She could feel her breath speeding up and tightness in her chest, the room started closing in on her and she grabbed suddenly for Peter. She’d nearly died and now she was in this place and her heart was racing and she wanted a drink to slow it all down, but that made her bad didn’t it, for wanting to drink when she had seen the damage it had done to her, to him… her fingers started tingling and she backed onto the bed trying to gulp down more air. The edges of her vision were greying. She wanted out, she had to get out.

‘Jenna,’ Lisa’s voice on one side on her, her hands taking both of Jenna’s. ‘I want you to listen to me, we’re going to breathe together and this is going to pass. Listen, ok? Yes? Breathe in through your nose and count, one, two, three, four, five, and out, one, two, three, four, five… keep going, breathing out, just slow it right down…’

Her vision started clearing a bit and she realised Peter was on the other side of her, a calm expression on his face but nothing but concern in his eyes., he had taken of his shades and she could see right through him.

‘I’m ok,’ she assured him rubbing his knee gently, ‘I’m fine, really.’

‘Yes, you are,’ Lisa said, ‘Well done, really well done, never easy to break a panic cycle.’

Jenna continued to breathe slowly and closed her eyes for a moment trying to gather herself.

‘What happens now?’ Peter asked beside her, she felt him rubbing her back gently.

‘Well now we get Jenna to see one of our doctors, a few basic tests and some medication to prescribe. I’ll be supporting her through the actual detox. That can vary for people but largely the medicated side of things, with the reducing regime, that lasts about a week to ten days. First few days can be tough but by the end of it people are usually in a place to really be engaging in therapy. Right now you just feel your way, Jenna, do what you can, talk to me, join in with the group activities…’

‘Group… activities?’ Jenna said a little distastefully.

‘Jenna,’ Peter warned quietly.

Lisa laughed. ‘Everyone reacts that way its fine. It’s not singing kum-ba-yah by a campfire or anything don’t worry. Just a few distractions, makes some cards, or knitting…’

Peter laughed, ‘Jenna… knitting? This I have to see.’

‘Shut up! I could knit… maybe…’ she laughed despite herself.

‘You’ll find something you like to help pass the time between therapy sessions,’ Lisa said. ‘Now…’ she said more seriously and looked past Jenna, ‘it’s time for you to go, Peter.’ She saw him nod.

‘What?’ Jenna protested, ‘I’ve only just got here, he can’t go yet…’

‘Those are the rules, Jenna,’ Peter said, ‘It’ll be ok, Lisa will look after you and you’ll have lots to do to get started here I’m sure…’ he looked at the nurse.

‘Oh yes,’ she confirmed, paperwork and all sorts of fun things.’

Jenna looked between them, ‘But I..’ she could feel tears welling up, ‘I’m not ready for you to go yet.’

Lisa was watching her kindly, ‘Why don’t I let you have a little bit of time?’ Peter nodded thankfully at her and she left Jenna’s little room. He wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head, a move she knew indicated that he was probably also trying to not to cry and didn’t want her to see.

‘You’re going to be ok,’ he said pulling back and looking at her, ‘You’ve made the decision, and you’re here. That’s been a hugely courageous and honest thing to do. You just have to put your trust in these people, they’re the best, and they are going to help. Do what they say, throw yourself into everything.’

She nodded uncertainly.

‘Jenna, you’re a young talented woman, and that’s starting to go to waste. Reclaim it before it goes too far and its lost forever. You have so much to live for and so much going for you.’

She looked up at him, the muscles of her face quivering as she tried to swallow down tears. ‘What about you?’

‘I’ll be fine. I’ll be in wales filming…’ he hesitated, ‘Waiting for you to get better so we can do those final scenes in a few weeks.’ He smiled and she reflexively smiled back.

‘Yeah,’ she said, OK, my target right?’

He nodded.

‘And you’ll visit meantime?’

The quality of his pause made her anxious before he had even replied.

‘I… um…’ he started, ‘I’ve been thinking about this, the staff spoke to me. You were out cold in the car and your phone went, they said you’d given them permission to talk to me so I would know best how to help you… and well we thought…’

‘You have to visit!’ Jenna said, ‘I can’t do this by myself!’

‘You won’t be by yourself, you will have masses of support here.’

‘That’s not the same, I need _you_ …’

‘You need consistency, and to focus on yourself and well… we thought at least for the first couple of weeks, until you’ve completed the medication anyway, it might be better if I…’

‘No!’ Jenna squeaked, ‘No you can’t just leave me here.’

‘Apparently they quite often ask loved ones to stay clear for a bit, let the person settle, let them detox freely with pressure.’

‘You don’t pressure me!’ she tried again. Why wouldn’t he listen, she needed him there.

‘Not actively,’ he said, ‘But say I turned up here after a long week looking like hell and swallowing GTN spray like it was going out of fashion. You’d be worried… your focus would shift to me…’

‘So instead I won’t hear about your long week at all, anything could be happening…’

‘Just trust me… and them… this works for people. A couple of weeks, Jenna, it could change everything for you, set your life back on track. You know you need this, you arranged it yourself and I know it must be terrifying where you are sitting now, but you just need to stick to it, accept the help, have the courage to face it, all of it… everyone faces their toughest demons alone in the end. For a little while anyway.’

‘Ravens,’ Jenna commented, acceptance washing over her in tired waves, ‘Not demons,’

Peter looked at her with softness in his eyes and beneath that, pride. He smiled sadly, ‘That’s right,’ he said, ‘Ravens… not demons. You’re going to face them Jenna, and it’s going to be hard but you can do this. What was the line?’

‘Let me be brave,’ she said.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenna experiences rehab

Facetiming, skyping and conference calls were not a regular feature of the Priory facility Jenna was passing her days in, but they had made an exception. She was nearing the end of her stay and the pressure was on a touch from Wales to at least run through the script for her part in Peter’s last episode. When she explained she couldn’t be there in person until the following week, they suggested she hook up a camera for the meeting.

She ran it past Lisa, who over the fortnight had become a close confidante and support. She thought for a moment she would say no out of principal but then her hazel eyes lit up and Jenna had hope.

‘Is it like a sneak peek?’ Lisa asked, ‘I mean it’s all top secret isn’t it?’

Jenna looked at her carefully over the breakfast table where the staff shared their meal with their patients. ‘Lisa, are you telling me you’re a fan?’

The woman looked caught out, returned her eyes to her cereal and poked it with her spoon. ‘Um, yes actually.’

‘Why didn’t you say!?’ Jenna laughed, ‘I’ve been here nearly two weeks. You could have had all the gossip… or you know, tried to get it at least.’

‘I’m not allowed to favour anyone or you know, badger them for autographs,’ Lisa said with a guilty smile. ‘Half the clients here are famous for something, but it’s my job to be objective and neutral.’

‘You are _not_ neutral,’ Jenna said, ‘You care too much.’ She could see Lisa blushing and waved her own spoon at her, ‘Anyway now you have to OK it. It’s for the good of the show.’

‘Well…’

‘I’ll let you stay in the room.’

‘Ok, done.’

Now she sat before a laptop belonging to her nurse, who was fiddling with the settings and occasionally cursing. Finally, two windows popped up, blank except for the time and date.

‘Ok,’ Lisa said, ‘The big one will show them, the small one is you, it’s a bit old fashioned but it should do the job. This is exciting isn’t it?’ she beamed. She had been nothing but a small round bundle of sunlight all week, something that initially Jenna’s mood wasn’t capable of bearing but which as the days passed had become vital to her survival. She felt like she’d made a friend. She wasn’t alone.

 

 

In the first few days she had felt so ill she’d barely left her room, especially after a disastrous first evening.

Peter had gone and the doctor had assessed and prescribed and her head was ringing with diagnoses and treatments and plans. Initially Lisa would bring her medications at set times and Jenna could ask for more if she needed but she would be assessed each time but she felt like the whole thing was such an event she wouldn’t do it. Her nurse argued if she needed it, she needed it and she should allow her to assess her withdrawals, but she pouted and got under the covers of her bed a few hours after Peter’s departure and refused to move.

She felt childish, left at that place with a nurse taking her to meals in the communal area and trying to encourage her to talk. She wanted to be left alone where she could feel sick and shake in peace, but Lisa kept chipping away at her over the course of the afternoon and early evening. Cheerful and forward looking, she was relentless. The kitchen area was filled with recovering addicts and others, less recovered and really quite sick looking, all wishing her well and getting in her space. She wanted to scream.

Eventually Jenna text Peter in desperation.

_This is hell._

Why?

_Everyone is so falsely positive; they all speak therapy talk about their problems. I don’t fit in._

Have you tried to fit in? he asked perceptively and it angered her more. She rapidly punched out another longer message.

_It’s not that easy! These people have really serious issues, they look like they should be on Trainspotting. Some of them are criminals. I’m not like that, I drink a bit too much, I’m not shooting up heroin and stealing from people._

A long pause.

‘Those people’ share something with you. A diagnosis of addiction.

She nearly lobbed the phone across the room.

_Why are you taking their side??_

I’m not taking anyone’s side. They are there for treatment and help, so are you. You have a problem with alcohol. If it went on longer you might well be in the place they are in now, look and act the way they do. Don’t Judge.

_I’m not judging! And I would never become like them! I have more control!_

Yes, you are, and you could. And you need to stop, see yourself in them and accept it. You had no control when you found that wine.

She dropped the phone and glared at it painfully. That was a low blow. And she knew deep down she deserved it. But he was still wrong, she wasn’t like them, they were so much worse.

 

That evening, fuming, she went to a group session to prove to herself that Peter was mistaken. She sat in the circle and looked about her and in her eyes everyone looked ill, exhausted, battered by life and drugs and booze. One or two of them she recognised from television, low grade celebs who smiled at her nervously knowing they’d been recognised. The rest were Last Ditchers, those whose parents had pulled together enough money to go private and try to save their child from heroin or crack after numerous NHS attempts.

They looked permanently dishevelled, and older than their years by double digits. They talked about an underworld Jenna had no idea about. She’d been right, they were nothing like her. She’d chosen the wrong place for her therapy. It was going to be a waste of time. She folded her arms and sat back in her chair, defensive and feeling ill, and listened vaguely to the stories about prostitution and ‘cooking up.’

 

 

The screen flickered and the read through room came into view. Jenna’s heart soared at the sight of the old gang around the table who one by one noticed her until a domino effect of people waving had begun.

‘Hi Jenna!’ Chris waved to grabbed her attention. ‘We’re just getting a few things set up. Can you hear me ok?’

‘Yes it’s great to see you too,’ she grinned. Oh the world outside the Priory, within sight but not so close she had to touch it or take responsibility yet. That felt about right for now.

‘It’s a bit dark where you are,’ Chis commented and like lightening Lisa dived for the light switch but Jenna stopped her with a curt ‘No!’ On screen Chris looked puzzled. ‘You ok? It really is a bit gloomy, are you able to bring the lights up?’

She hesitated, she wasn’t looking her best currently. She needed a facial and a trip to the hairdresser to remove the remnants of the last fortnight. She’d failed to realise exactly what her body had been through, or what was yet to come.

 

 

Day two had come as a massive shock when she had woken early shaking to her bones and vomiting in her little bathroom. Everything ached and the sweat was pouring from every part of her body. She was cold and then hot and the cycle refused to abate. At last she dragged the bin to her bedside and curled up under the covers convulsing with cold until it seemed a reasonable hour to call someone.

Eight o’clock came and she buzzed for the nurse, levering herself up just a fraction when Lisa bounced into her room with her morning meds. She wished not for the first time it was a cup of vodka not a pill cup filled with chlordiazepoxide.

‘Jenna! Why didn’t you buzz someone earlier, we’re here all night too, there’s always someone to help? Look at the state of you!’ she fussed around her.

‘I thought it would stop, it can’t last like this surely?’ Jenna’s teeth chattered off each other as she spoke and struggled to sit up with Lisa’s help. Her pyjamas were soaked through and clung to her coldly.

‘Sweetheart , it can last, that’s the point. This isn’t a head cold or a bug, this is withdrawal and you need some of this,’ she decanted three tablets into Jenna’s hand and watched her swallow them, ‘You must tell us if it comes on badly, I don’t understand why it’s so bad this morning you will have had your night-time tablets and your sleeper?’

‘Um…’

‘Jenna? The nurse on shift did give them to you didn’t she?’

‘Um yes I just… I didn’t take them I felt ok-ish. I didn’t think I really needed them.’

‘Jenna if you let this go on too long you’re at risk of seizure. Your meds are prescribed for a reason at the dose they are. Please take them in future and I’ll ask the nurse to remember to supervise. You’re new to all this, I know you’ve uncertainties but you must take these. What made you think you’d manage overnight?’

Jenna shrugged and it got lost in amongst her shivers. ‘I.. I went to the group,’ she confessed, ‘And there were all these other patients siting there, and they seemed mostly ok and their problems are much bigger than mine so I thought I could do without.’

Lisa looked at her with the wisdom of someone who had heard it all before, and at the same time a modicum of disappointment that once again she would have to educate and correct.

‘Jenna,’ she said softly, ‘I know it’s hard to hear, but you’re no different from any one of our other patients. This is not a time for hiding, from us or from yourself. There is no shame. You have a problem, and we are trying to help. The sooner you accept all that, the easier it will be.’

 

 

Jenna hesitated still and watched as Chris waited, confused, on the other end of the link. ‘Jenna?’ he pushed. ‘It’s going to be hard for Peter to act against you if he can’t see your face. If we thought, we could manage by phone we would have opened a line instead. Please?’

Suddenly behind him she saw Peter arrive, casual as usual in his jeans and t-shirt, shades still on, numerous bags of goodness knew what. He had always carried them, food, water, a book, some notepads, pencils. He got bored easily and if there was any waiting to do he had to be occupied. He carried hundreds of photos he could sign too at given opportunities. Jenna laughed to see him, just as he had always been. She nodded at Lisa to flick on the light.

‘Better?’ she asked.

‘Yes, much, thanks,’ Chris took a seat and at that moment Peter realised he had heard her voice. Slowly he removed his shades and looked towards the large projection she knew they would have on one wall.

‘Jenna…’ he said quietly. The rest of the room was still around him, knowledge heavy now with everyone on the team that they were looking at a couple plagued by ill will and the media all year; at two people who had been battling ill health individually and together. Jenna squinted quickly at the tiny image of herself on the screen.

‘I hope I don’t look too scary,’ she laughed, ‘they don’t have a stylist here.’ Lisa rolled her eyes behind the computer and Jenna looked impishly at her, ‘Can’t get the staff.’

Peter was smiling, still gazing upwards like he was being shown some great deity in the sky. His smiled broadened into one of the dazzling and rare ones he used only when supremely happy. It lit up everything about him, took twenty years off his face.

‘You look better,’ he said and she could almost feel his relief. He gestured to his seat, checked with her and Chris, ‘Shall we?’ he asked.

 

Chris had written it of course. Peter’s last scene and Jenna’s lines within it. It was a hard one to run through without being there as she ached to go through the physical directions, kneeling by his side, cradling him as he transformed. Anyway, it couldn’t be done until the following week when she had been promised release to film, so the lines would have to do.

Peter began and the room feel silent.

‘I didn’t ever think I’d see you again. You’ve been gone… I don’t know how long.’

‘For me?’ Jenna replied, ‘About a thousand years, for you… maybe one.’

‘You underestimate time,’ he smiled, ‘Or overestimate it.’

‘I suspect you’re going to tell me you never forgot me?’ Jenna asked.

Peter’s smile became bashful, ‘How could I ever… but you had to be kept safe and as much as I wanted to be with you, you had to go, it was the only way I had to do it at the time.’

‘Back then, yes, but things are different now, I’ve learned… I think you have too.’

‘Yes,’ Peter said and paused, ‘Yes I have. But for this version of me, it’s too late. This chapter is ending, this body is older, this face will change.’

‘That doesn’t matter,’ Jenna said, ‘I’ve loved all your faces, young and old, and I’ll love all the ones to come too. After everything we have been through, don’t we deserve some time to share?’

There was a pause in the read through room and Jenna realised that Peter was trying to hold himself together sufficiently to read his closing lines.

‘We do, and we will,’ he said and then took a deep breath, ‘I wish it could be now but… But not yet, Clara, not… quite… yet…’ his voice slowed and stilled.

‘No!’ Jenna finished.

Chris cleared his throat and read the stage direction, ‘The doctor transforms in Clara’s arms and at the last moment when he is Twelve she kisses him goodbye.’

Jenna looked up briefly and saw Lisa trying to wipe tears from her cheek surreptitiously. ‘This is going to be heart-breaking,’ she commented.

‘It usually is,’ Jenna agreed, watching the goings on in Wales. She was struggling to quell her emotions, jumbled enough by the detox and daily therapy and now strung out by her character’s farewell to the Doctor. She just didn’t see herself ever returning to the show for another Doctor, it would feel like she was cheating. So that would be it, next week, next Wednesday to be exact she would be kneeling by Peter and watching him ‘transform.’ It was a sad moment, reminiscent of when she had left the show years ago, of Peter playing the guitar on set and the painful stilted embrace they had shared when her last scene was over. Neither of them had known then, just how deep their feelings ran. If they had…

She could see Peter playing with his phone at the read through table and in a second her own buzzed. She slid it open and check the message.

_I need to see you. Please. I know it was me who said no visits to begin with, but God, I’ve missed you so much._

Jenna caught Lisa’s eye. ‘Can he visit?’ she said trying to sound casual and coming across strained.

Lisa instinctively became a nurse again and not just Jenna’s _Doctor Who_ mad friend. ‘Well that’s your decision, Jenna, if you feel you’re ready for a part of the outside world to come in….’

‘Peter isn’t the outside world,’ Jenna insisted. ‘He’s _my_ world.’

Lisa lifted her arms in a helpless but permitting gesture. ‘Well on you go then,’ she said with a smile. Jenna returned to her phone.

 _When can you be here?_ she asked, feeling her hands shake from excitement and not from withdrawal. She was proud of her new steady hands.

Tomorrow? Mid afternoon? If you aren’t busy?

She snorted, _I have a very important crochet class, but for you… I’ll rearrange._

If it’s important? He replied evidently nervous about interrupting anything therapeutic.

_Peter, it’s OK. I’m ready. I’ll explain it all tomorrow. It’s been difficult, but it’s time to start facing the world. You happen to be the first bit I want to face._

She added a love emoji with big heart eyes, blowing a kiss. He'd be largely flummoxed by it but he might get the idea. She watched him receive the message on the live link to the read through, saw him turn the phone from one side to the other to try and decipher the thing. She received the inevitable, Peter -like text a moment afterwards.

What the...??


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Jenna reunite...

Jenna wiped the lipstick off hastily with the cleansing wipe. Too orange, the base tone was too orange, she needed pinky shades. She rummaged through her little supply of make up. Why didn’t she have more make up?

Because she was in a rehab facility for alcoholics and other assorted mental health patients. She rolled her eyes at herself. Behind her Nurse Lisa let herself into the room and stood with her arms folded at the bottom of Jenna’s bed. She was trying not to laugh.

‘So how long have you known him?’ she asked.

‘Years.’

‘Friends before lovers and all that?’

‘Yes...’ Jenna said with a touch of impatience.

‘And he brought you here when you were at your lowest? Saw you at your worst when you overdosed? Covered in your own sick, hooked up to a ventilator…’

‘Lisa!’ Jenna turned from the mirror. Lisa shrugged.

‘I’m just saying he probably doesn’t care about the shade of your lipstick.’

Jenna hesitated and looked down at her basic dressing table, glanced again at the mirror. She was probably right but… she just wanted to make an effort for him somehow. She’d never really done that before, when he was just Peter.

‘I want to show him I’m better,’ she said.

Lisa came up to her and plucked the orangey lipstick from her hand, ‘He will see that, don’t worry. Remember you’ve looked at yourself each day, barely noticing the change. He hasn’t properly seen you in two weeks, just a grainy video link. You’re going to amaze him…’ she smiled a big genuine smile.

Jenna picked up her hairbrush. ‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ she said, nervously running it down to the tips of her brown hair. She’d been using conditioner this week and it shone like it used to. She’d also noticed her skin clear a bit, no longer so dry she needed a bucket of moisturiser each morning. Her dark circles had improved… a bit.

She leaned towards the mirror and inspected her eyes. Fine lines around them, still there, brow still furrowed. Should she get botox? He’d laugh at that, probably half end himself laughing at that sort of vanity. She continued her inspection, nails painted, hiding the rough surfaces, and she was still on the thin side. Jenna fiddled with the straps of her summer dress, her collar bones prominent.

‘I still don’t look quite like me,’ she confessed.

Lisa cocked her head, ‘You do to anyone else, but I know what you mean. It feels that way to you.’

‘Will I ever get back to who I was?’ she asked worried.

‘It’s only two weeks Jenna and you’ve done so well. You’ve got to be patient. Your body is only now starting to recover; you were on meds until a few days ago to stop the shakes. If you had flu you’d take this long to recover! Longer! You wouldn’t be worrying then about your wrinkles!’

Jenna laughed, ‘I guess… I guess. It’s hard to get into perspective sometimes. It’s this huge potentially life ruining problem, but I’ve not had a drink in a fortnight and I feel so much better. I feel…Almost… elated? Like I could manage anything but my body is letting me down.’

Lisa nodded knowingly, ‘Just be careful. A lot of people get that elated ‘I’ve done it’ feeling. It’s what happens when the alcohol goes and your hormones notice. You’re vulnerable. Your body is actually doing the amazing stuff, healing you, it’s your psychology that may yet let you down. If you hear a little voice saying ‘I can stick to just one,’ ignore it, because this is the time it will do that.’

‘So I’m not actually happy it’s just my body pumping out chemicals now that the alcohol is gone? That’s… sobering.’

Lisa raised an eyebrow.

‘Sobering,’ Jenna said, ‘Get it? Ok no that was terrible.’ She went back to brushing her hair, paused and checked her phone. ‘Is he late?’ she asked.

‘Roads might be busy, you know people escaping for the weekend, relax he’ll be here, he promised,’ Lisa set about straightening pillows on the bed for something to do. Jenna wondered if she was as apprehensive as she was, willing something nice to happen for her friend.

Jenna began to pace a little. The window overlooked the front of the building and she could just about see the drive but it was currently empty save for a few people wandering about the grounds to soak up the sun. It wasn’t as blisteringly hot today, the odd cloud did float above. She could see rabbits scurrying about in the hedgerows. Her heart tip tapped in her chest like a metronome. God, she was nervous. It was only Peter…

… and then there he was, driving himself today she noticed, straight from Wales? Unlikely, he probably went back to London after the read through and now here. Ok not to panic. She watched him pull up into the drive and kill the engine while she leaned on the window frame. For a minute both of them were motionless. He had his hands still on the wheel and his head slightly bowed. Jenna giggled slightly;

‘He’s as nervous as me,’ she said.

Lisa was on her like a shot peering past her shoulder. ‘He’s here? Why didn’t you say ‘he’s here Lisa!’’

‘I was too busy spying on him,’ Jenna said. ‘He’s getting out…’

The car door opened and Peter gracefully climbed out, shades on, bag over one shoulder, effortlessly calm, composed and attractive now he had pulled himself together in the driver’s seat.

‘Oh dear God,’ Jenna breathed.

‘What? Are you ok?’

‘I forgot, I hadn’t seen him for two weeks, in person he’s…’

Lisa pulled a knowing face, ‘He’s a good looking man, charming…’

‘And he’s… he’s mine!’ Jenna burst out to Lisa’s amusement. ‘He’s really mine, after everything, after Christmas, and his marriage ending, his heart, and me with … this business… he’s still here, he still cares!’

‘Yes!’ Lisa said like it was the most obvious thing ever. ‘He’s never off the phone getting updates!’

‘You never told me that,’ Jenna said looking at her quickly.

Lisa shook her head, ‘Not supposed to, he said you’d worry, want to speak to him more, find out how he was…. But he’s been very attentive.’

Jenna grinned. ‘I’m going to meet him,’ she declared and she pushed off from the window and did something she hadn’t done for a good long time, certainly since alcohol had got a grip on her. She fled her room leaving the door open and Lisa abandoned, and pelted down the corridors to the reception area and the large hall. The doors were divided, wood below and glass above, two of them with golden fittings. Jenna skittered to a halt behind one just as Peter reached for its handle.

They regarded each other through the window for a moment and Jenna lifted her hands to it and placed them on the glass. She saw him edge closer and look down at her, a half smile on his lips and raise one hand to were hers waited. He tapped gently, his grin spreading.

Jenna dived back and pulled the door open before throwing herself bodily at him. He made an oomph noise and his bag slipped from his shoulder before landing by his feet. His arms were busy circling her, his face pressed to her neck. Jenna squeezed and cuddled and tugged her fingers in his hair, kissing his neck and cheek until he wrestled her back a little in a fit of giggles.

‘Ok, ok… it’s nice to see you too!’ he laughed removing his shades. Jenna stood grinning up at him, looking at his eyes. His smile was reflected in them, something which had been a rare sight for so long. He had a healthy colour in his cheeks too and looked as though he might actually have eaten a meal in recent days.

‘You look better,’ she said.

‘So do you,’ he retorted, ‘Much better.’ He glanced around the hall. ‘So um… what now?’

Jenna was staring at him like he was a miracle, and in many ways to her at that moment, he was.

‘You want to catch up, tell me how things have been?’ Peter asked. ‘It sounded like you had a lot to report?’ She chewed her lip thoughtfully and then shook her head, grabbing his hand. ‘Jenna?’

Keeping up a pace she quickly and steadily pulled him through the corridors. He paused slightly at the communal area where the coffee was being served but she just guided him on. She sensed him relax a little after a minute more. Jenna swung open her bedroom door.

‘I have a kettle here if we need it,’ she said, backing coquettishly towards the window. ‘I also have a bed…’ she gestured to it. Peter’s eyebrows shot up.

‘Jenna I’m not sure patients are allowed visitors in their room,’ he said seriously. ‘There are rules.’

‘They aren’t’ she confirmed. ‘But it’s my nurse on floor duty today…. So I think if we do get caught she’ll turn a blind eye.’

‘I’d still rather we didn’t get caught, even if the nurse is your buddy, I’d rather she didn’t see me… indisposed,’ Peter laughed. She watched him dump his bag and jacket on a chair and circled him guiding him towards the end of the bed. She desperately suddenly needed him. She could almost feel her blood surging through her new, healthier body. All sensation seemed greater, more intense.

‘Peter…’

‘Jenna, seriously....’ he held up his hands in defeat, ‘This is a hospital,’ she closed in on him and he sat down briefly before she leaned down and fastened her lips over his. He immediately opened his mouth to her and his arms came tight around her waist. He was as desperate as her it seemed, but repressed by social convention. You weren’t supposed to have sex in a hospital but there was no stopping them now. She kissed him sloppily and reached down to remove his shirt. She could hear him unbuckling his trousers impatiently and then before she knew it he had flipped her over onto the bed.

Peter pushed her dress up over her waist and grabbed her by the hips, pulling her towards him, angling her body and his. Jenna was still kissing him fiercely, but broke off just long enough to free herself of the dress completely, her skin tingling when he brushed against her. She felt fire spreading through her and desperate writhing need.

He was ahead of her, pushing quickly into her slick centre and allowing no time for adjustment. He pumped into her with a strong rhythm that she drove up into, wanting more, feeling him fill her, bruise her almost, in his desire to be in her. But Jenna didn’t want to stop or slow things down, she was close already and grasped at his neck, held his body, ran her tongue across exposed and sensitive flesh. She heard him moan in response, wondered at his strength of lust and arousal and at how quickly her own orgasm was building. She giggled, she should go to rehab more often.

It lasted minutes before hot sensation and release crashed over both of them and Peter cried out against her ear. Jenna pushed him on to thrust through her climax before he stilled inside her and panted over skin. Recovering, he rolled slightly to one side and looked down at himself, half in and out of his trousers, his clothes distributed around Jenna’s hospital bedroom. He looked at her and burst into laughter. Jenna smirked and covered her eyes with one hand.

‘Jenna for God’s sake! This is not very dignified. What if a nurse wanders in?’ he reached down and pulled the trousers over his exposed buttocks and attempted to do up his fly while Jenna distracted him, rolling onto his chest and kissing him again.

‘Like I said, she’d forgive me… she’s a fan of yours. Thinks you’re pretty sexy actually…’

Peter rolled his eyes. She grinned.

For a moment his face changed as he looked at her and she saw something deep within him, rarely seen and frail. He was relieved, happy, and it warmed her to see it.

‘You’re doing so well, Jenna,’ he said, ‘You’ve no idea what it means to me to know that.’

‘You look like you’ve been taking care of yourself,’ she observed and shifted so he could sit up.

‘Yes,’ he admitted, ‘Yes… eating, sleeping, bit of filming.’ He hunted around for his shirt and then gave up, flopping back on the bed. ‘All comes to a finish next week of course.’

‘Are you worried? Nervous? It’s the end of an era.’ Jenna said with sympathy.

Peter lay staring at the ceiling for a second. ‘Well our last scenes are tear jerkers for sure…’

‘But the leaving it for good aspect, not being the Doctor anymore?’

‘I’ve come to terms with that a bit,’ he said, ‘I’ve been very lucky for a long time but everything has to end, it helps that you’ll be there. First day, last day,’ he smiled a slightly fragile smile.

‘I’ll always be there,’ Jenna said, ‘That’s how it’s going to be from now on.’

‘Yes,’ he sighed, and reached for her hand, watched as their fingers linked. ‘Please let that be true.’


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenna, embracing her new role as his partner, supports Peter as Doctor Who ends for him

‘Have a drink…’

‘Um… do I don’t think so…’

‘It’s fine, just one or two, it’ll help you relax…’

‘I don’t need to relax…’

‘You’re tense…’

‘You know I hate these things…’

‘Look,’ Jenna stepped around Peter so she could look him directly in the eye. ‘I’m the one with the drink problem, not you. This is your leaving party, its ok to have a couple and unwind.’

He looked down at her briefly and then huffed slightly.

‘I don’t usually drink at these things...’

‘I know but..’

‘I’m not about to start. I don’t care if it is my leaving do. It would hardly be supportive of me would it?’

‘I’m designated driver!’ she protested, ‘With… an alcohol problem… which in this case is really helpful because I’ll stay sober and drive you home,’ she smiled. Peter rolled his eyes.

‘I’m not drinking. End of conversation. And you shouldn’t be encouraging me like it’s a helpful crutch.’

‘Fair enough, very good point about the crutch, one for my therapist,’ Jenna said. She cocked her head at him, ‘You’re hating this aren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ he said tersely, ‘It’s hell, the whole thing is awful. Everyone is here, everyone is being so nice, all eyes are on me, the presentation was absolute torture,’ he said referring to the formal presentation of his parting gifts from the show, ‘I can’t bear it. Can we leave yet?’

‘I think people would be upset,’ she soothed. ‘The whole point of this party is you. And well, you have no idea how much people think of you. How wonderful you are. You should soak it up, believe what they’re saying…’

‘I’m not good at that stuff, it just makes me feel awkward. They can focus on the new guy now,’ he argued, ‘Can’t I just slip out the back?’ Peter pleaded with her, with his eyes which was always hard to ignore.

Jenna felt infinitely sorry for him. He really did hate these ‘do’s and especially being at the heart of them, she could tell he just wanted to run and not because he disliked people but because he was getting overwhelmed. Peter was an introvert at heart, he needed his own space and time and he was sensitive. Leaving the show was a massive, massive deal, a painful decision and he had barely held himself together when they had handed him his gifts. Then there came the eulogy like speeches to his incarnation of the character and to his involvement in the show in general. She had watched him squirm through the gushing praise from Chris only to find that Steven, who had been floating around the party, had also prepared a speech about his time working with Peter. The whole business had gone on nearly an hour.

She had to admit if it had been her in Peter’s position she would have been dying inside and dying to leave. The week had been nothing but shifting, fluxing emotion and he was wrung out. She would have been tempted to drink, Peter was just tempted to go home and hide for a while.

‘Ok’ she said softly, ‘Let’s split,’ she watched him heave a sigh of relief. ‘You know where the car is, I’ll sneak off and get your stuff.’

‘Thank you,’ he said taking the keys.

‘I won’t be long.’ Jenna watched him disappear through the crowd at the party, her keys hidden in his hand while he smiled and responded warmly to all those around him. He was wiped, she could see it more clearly at a distance for some reason. Something in his posture, a loss of some of that elegance. She looked for a second and his age showed, highlighted by exhaustion. He was doing the right thing, leaving, both the show and the party, he couldn’t go on being worn down. When he’d met with her at the Priory he’d looked fantastic. A few heavy days of work back on set and he looked ready to drop. She felt suddenly possessive, he needed taking care of, she’d do that.

So, home it was then, and from there, new beginnings.

They had managed the on screen goodbye the day before. Jenna had been back on set for a couple of days already and it truly was like old times, sitting at the desk underneath the TARDIS console, running lines, talking options, laughing. It was like years ago but at the same time there were changes, just little touches. The make-up lady and hair stylist applied extra to Peter’s face and less to his hair. The additional silver they used to brush into his temples to lighten darker grey areas was no longer needed. He was just a little slower too on the uptake of his lines, nothing anyone else would even noticed but to Jenna, who had spent two years running lines with him, it was there.

He got it though and it took very few takes. Jenna was relieved about that, for his sake more than hers. He was struggling and needed it done and over with fast, she on the other hand had found strength enough for both of them.

Jenna had stepped out of the Priory that Wednesday morning feeling tougher, her priorities in a better place. She had a plan in a folder and places of support to attend now that she was out, because she wanted to try being completely discharged. Once she was out for filming she didn’t want to go back. Both Peter and the hospital hummed and hawed and warned her it might be too soon but she was confident. Other people left straight after detox to community support, right? She could do that too. To her surprise Lisa had advocated for her, something had clicked into place, she said, as long as Jenna knew where to turn if she needed help. She pressed a scrap of paper into her hand as she got in the taxi and shut the door. As the car drew off Jenna read the little note, Lisa’s number; as a nurse she wasn’t supposed to give it out. Jenna smiled, she had a sense she’d made a friend for life.

So it was just a day’s filming in the end, of that scene, the one where they said goodbye. When she had done this years before, in a waitress outfit while Peter played guitar she had cried and cried. This time it was him. She held him in her arms as he laid on the ground ready to transform, and reassured him that no matter what was to come, who he was to become, she would love him. The lines about his transformation, the changes in his face and body seemed to pain him particularly, so Jenna dragged him outside for a break while they set up again. He didn’t say a word on the way, pale under his make up.

‘What is it?’ she had asked, handing him his coffee. The pair sat on a bench by the studio. In the distance they could see people milling about behind the gates, waiting just in case they came out to say hello. On a bad day it looked like a scene from a zombie film, all these bodies just waiting restlessly outside.

Peter sipped his drink and looked a little forlornly at the ground. ‘The whole thing just hurts,’ he confessed a little off hand as though it shouldn’t have bothered him, ‘I knew leaving would be bad but…’

‘No,’ Jenna said interrupting, ‘It’s not that. It’s those particular lines. ‘This chapter is ending, this body is older, this face will change.’ You always lose it at that bit.’

‘Well,’ he said shrugging slightly, ‘What do _you_ think it’s about? I would have said it was obvious.’ He gave her a sad smile, ‘I _am_ older, I _am_ changing and….’

‘You don’t think ‘ll be there…’ Jenna said suddenly, the realisation hitting her hard in the chest. ‘You think as you get older I’ll leave?’

Peter hesitated and then sorrow washed over his features. ‘Jenna, this is real now, what we’re talkiing about. It’s been a hell of a year, so many changes, so much happening and we’ve been bound up in all of it… bound together you might say. Now its settling, thank God, but once it does…’

‘Peter I’m in it for the duration not just the dramatic bits, I want it to be settled.’

‘You’ll get bored,’ he said.

‘What?’ she laughed, ‘What on earth makes you say that?’

‘I’m retiring remember, writing childrens stories and drawing daleks in my studio… I’m turning into bloody Roald Dahl.’

‘I loved him!’

Peter pulled a face at her. ‘Not quite the same. You loved him when you were ten and you read Matilda…’

‘So…?’

‘Jenna, you’re in your thirties. I’m rapidly becoming a old man with a zip up breastbone from heart surgery and a medication regime to match. It’s hardly enticing.’

‘I found you pretty enticing in my hospital bed the other day,’ Jenna had said, ‘I was hoping to find you enticing again later…’

He laughed a little. ‘Yes well make use of it, a couple years more and it might be a thing of the past.’

‘Shut up!’ she retorted, ‘Peter this is completely unlike you. You’ve never had an ‘old’ mindset. This week is going to be tough, I get that. Everything right now is about endings, your part on the show, to a certain extent your role with the public….’

She watched him rotate his coffee cup sadly between his hands. He wouldn’t look at her yet.

‘Peter,’ she said softly, ‘Everything might feel like it’s ending but it really isn’t. I’m _not_ going anywhere. This is our new beginning, I promise. I’m sober, you’re getting the pressure taken off you so you can stay well. We’ll look back in a couple months’ time and wonder why we were so scared.’

‘You’re scared too?’ he asked.

‘Of course I am I’m only just off the booze and I’m going back to work in a couple of weeks and the public all think I’m a lush who stole someone’s husband… but I accept being scared and chose to work with it, rather than deny it exists.’

Peter made a pair of big eyes at her statement and then drew himself up slightly with a deep breath. ‘You’ve really been embracing the therapy haven’t you?’ he said.

Jenna smiled slightly, ‘Yeah it’s pretty good actually, you should give it a try… ‘

‘Maybe I should,’ he said lightly.

‘They have couple’s therapy…’ Jenna tested. Peter turned to her with a slight frown.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘Just saying. It’s a time of a lot of change for you. The therapist covers that; and you know coming off alcohol is a time of change too, for me. A lot of it is the same principle, coping with that change, how not to feel cast adrift, how to support one another… just an option…’ she left it hanging. Peter was a private soul who would probably baulk at the very idea.

He regarded her for a moment as though he was about to dismiss the entire notion, then he seemed to relax slightly. ‘I’ll think about it,’ he said, and finished his coffee.

He’d got through the next take without breaking down and Clara and the Doctor finally shared their kiss.

 

The noise of the party behind her, Jenna slid into the driver’s seat and closed the door. She glanced across at Peter, his profile sharp against the lights of the venue.

‘You ready?’ she asked him.

‘Not really,’ he answered, his voice slightly gravelly. ‘I knew it would feel painful but…’ he stopped. Jenna rubbed his thigh gently.

‘We don’t need to go quite yet,’ she offered, ‘You can go back in? Or we can just sit here?’

She heard him sigh and saw him glance out the window.

‘No, I think this chapter needs closing,’ he admitted.

‘Come on then,’ Jenna said, ‘Time to go home.’

 


	44. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end has finally come upon us! Peter reveals his secret project (s)

He was up to something. Jenna tried to peer around the kitchen door and spot what he was doing but he glanced up almost immediately and caught her. Fed up, she pushed open the door.

‘You must have hearing like a bat,’ she said, walking past him to get the kettle.

He was sitting at the table and immediately covered whatever he was working on with a newspaper. She tried to guess from his behaviour what he was doing. He was wearing his glasses. Hmm, must be important then. But on the other hand he was still growing that beard, and he only did that when he was on downtime.

‘On the contrary I’m pretty deaf,’ he countered, ‘But you’re wearing a bright blue robe I could see it swishing about in the corridor.

‘Well get you Sherlock,’ she teased. Jenna sat by him while she waited for the kettle to boil. ‘So,’ she said casually, ‘What have you got there?’

‘Nothing,’ he said innocently.

There was a pause while they eyed one another.

‘I don’t believe you. It’s a script isn’t it?’

‘I’m not giving any clues either way.’

‘Is it a draft of your book?’ she asked referring to the little storybook he’d been working on since he’d ‘retired’ from TV.

‘Again, no clues.’

‘Let me see, I want to see if it’s that! Your pictures are adorable.’

‘All in good time,’ he folded his arms and leaned on the papers.

Jenna pouted and went to make her coffee. ‘It would have cheered me up to see…’ she tried.

‘Do you need cheering?’ Peter asked.

‘Well you know, back to work today, all those lines to learn, all those tiny corsets to squeeze into, all of them black. New love interests…’

‘New love interests?’ he asked casually. Jenna glanced at him, the tone of his voice seemed odd, like he was trying to stifle a laugh.

‘Yes…’ she said, ‘The poor woman was widowed at forty one, or was it forty two, anyway, young. She couldn’t be alone all that time. She fell in love with her servant….’

‘Oh…’ Peter said expressionlessly.

Jenna sat down with her mug and challenged him to look up at her but he remained deeply absorbed in the newspaper he still had pinned to the table by his elbows.

‘Peter….’ she wheedled. ‘You know ages ago you said you had one project lined up acting wise, you know after you left the show, and you were going to see how that went and if you managed it you’d consider other short term projects.’

‘Mmm,’ he replied non committal.

‘What ever became of that?’

He looked up at her all innocent blue eyes.

‘Oh well… that’s still the case, still a secret, still to come, haven’t started filming yet… shouldn’t you, er…. Get that down you and get dressed. The car will be here soon for you.’ He smiled a dazzling grin and Jenna laughed out loud.

‘You are up to something,’ she said standing up to take the coffee into their bedroom while she dressed.

‘Yes,’ he confirmed.’

‘Tell me.’

‘Later.’

 

 

The whole business made her suspicious, for starters they wouldn’t leave casting this late. They’d been through the run through without her new lead and it was ridiculously last minute. Where would they find anyone at this stage who could not only fit the role perfectly but generate chemistry with her. She had to have time to get to know the person, didn’t they understand that?

Jenna walked in the large palatial hallway serving as today’s location and stood centrally while someone fussed with the way her heavy black skirts hung. She’d been laughing earlier at how she would never wear an interesting costume again on the series, just black, black, black. Her hair was pinned back severely and make up had aged her to her forties, just subtly but it was there. She watched as various bits of equipment trundled past her and the crew debated amongst themselves.

Still no leading man. This was ridiculous.

Jenna’s patience snapped a little. She was still slightly on edge these days and this really wasn’t helping. She was nervous about working closely with someone she didn’t know, it was a huge effort coming back after everything that had happened that year, she needed a bit of routine. She flagged down the director, who gave her a one minute sign with a forefinger. What the? Fine. Jenna walked off and stood a little speechlessly against a pillar.

‘Hi,’ she looked up at the familiar voice and saw Peter peering around the column at her. Jenna stared.

‘What are you doing….?’ She started as he stepped around the stone. Her eyes dropped to his waist.

‘Is that…?’

‘A sporran,’ he confirmed, ‘Yes and if you look lower,’ he pointed in a rather theatrical manner to his leg which sported a high thick woollen sock and…

‘Why have you got a dagger?’

‘It’s not a dagger it’s a sgian-dubh **,’**

‘What? Wait hang on…’ Jenna said, ‘Are you telling me that your special secret project…?’

He smiled, pulling a neat hat from his waist and pulling it onto his head. ‘John brown, servant to her majesty Queen Victoria.’ Peter bowed to her.

Jenna’s smile became wide and excitable. ‘Oh my god,’ she clapped and then threw her arms around his neck. ‘I wondered what on earth was going on. They and no one cast and I was so worried it would be someone I didn’t get on with.’

Peter kissed her and lowered her safely back to the ground before regarding her with absolute joy in his eyes.

‘Well I think we can safely assume that we get on, on and off screen.’ He wrapped an arm around her waist and walked her into the centre of the set where their marks had been laid out for them. She was suddenly aware of all eyes on them, a few whispers from different directions. Peter had noticed too but its only effect on him was to make him project his voice more clearly.

‘Here we go,’ he said, placing her on her mark and taking both her hands. ‘We’ve left Clara and the Doctor behind, we’ve endured gossip, heartache, literally in my case, and alcohol and health problems, and the media might well have had a field day with us all year but this…’ he touched her face gently, ‘ _this_ is going to be special.’

‘It certainly is,’ she replied, eyes shining.

Peter’s voice lowered again to an intimate level.

‘When Victoria died an old lady, she was buried wearing John Brown’s ring. They hid it beneath the flowers in her coffin because it was seen to be so scandalous.’

‘I know, it’s very sad really.’

‘It is,’ Peter agreed, ‘And I don’t want to hide anything anymore, in anyway, from anyone. I want us to be proud of what we’ve survived, together. So for the second part of my secret project...’ He dipped into the pocket of his waistcoat and withdrew a shining ring. Jenna’s heartbeat skipped and he smiled at her shocked reaction.

‘This is a fresh start. Jenna,’ he said, ‘So let’s make it official…’

‘Oh my god, yes.. I… wait,’ Jenna frowned.

‘What?’ Peter’s concern was palpable.

‘Aren’t you supposed to get down on one knee?’ she asked regally. Peter made a disbelieving noise.

‘Jenna, I’m sixty and I’ve had knee surgery. If I get down there I’ll never get back up… just put the thing on, you’re killing me here.’

Jenna snorted and slipped on the engagement ring while the crew around them began the applause.

‘Sorry,’ she said quietly, ‘Did I spoil the mood?’

Peter kissed her tenderly and sighed. ‘No,’ he said, ‘For us, that actually went pretty smoothly.’

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all the lovely Colepaldi readers for their messages, comments and kudos.


End file.
